


Enemies, Kept Close

by KBZ



Series: superhero au [1]
Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Dubious Morality, It Kinda Just Got Away from Me, Kobayakawa Sena is a bisexual disaster, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Of the ShinSena Variety, Shin Seijuurou is Bad at Feelings, Slow Burn, Taki Suzuna is a Little Shit, The ShinSena is going to happen soon just be patient please, but not yet, plot heavy, there i said it, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 66,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22264888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KBZ/pseuds/KBZ
Summary: mamihlapinatapai - the wordless look shared between two people, wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to beginorA villain walks into a room full of superheroes. It’s the set up of many punchlines, which makes sense since Sena’s life is largely a (never ending, humorless) joke.orSena is best friends with Suzuna, who has an older brother named Seijuro, who is secretly Sena’s alter-ego-Devilbat’s arch nemesis, the Hero of Honor, Dark Knight, who knows about Sena. It only gets more confusing from there.
Relationships: Kobayakawa Sena & Taki Suzuna, Kobayakawa Sena/Shin Seijuurou, Shin Seijuurou & Wakana Koharu
Series: superhero au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814068
Comments: 83
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I have plenty of other fics to finish, don't @me.
> 
> This fic borrows from one of my other works on FF.net called To Savage the Land, but these are separate universes. You could consider TStL as like a bad end to a similar AU.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet cute.

Sena Kobayakawa, nineteen-year old college sophomore, is a self-admitted coward. (Which is hilarious, considering his line of work, but more on that later.) So, what is he doing distracting a guard so that his best friend Suzuna can get a copy of security tapes?

His best.

“Um, so, sir,” Sena gulps loudly. His bedhead is styled for once into a respectable side-part, and he’s wearing a conservative button-down and slacks, sweating through both. Perfectly normal attire for, say, a job interview, but 1) it’s 1:30 in the morning, 2) he is standing in the fluorescent-illuminated parking lot outside of a security guard’s office. Just your typical Friday-night-technically-Saturday-morning kinda shenanigans. “I was wondering how you are today? And if you have a… moment to talk?”

The security guard holds a box of sausage and cheese kolaches in one hand, keys in the other. He’s also giving Sena the stink eye instead of a pastry which does nothing for Sena’s confidence.

“This is not a good time, kid.” He’s just walking in to his deep night shift. The guard doesn’t know that Sena knows this. He also doesn’t know that the previous guard Kolache & Beer Gut is replacing ducked out early tonight, leaving a fifteen minute window for Suzuna to sneak in and sneak out. (How does Sena know this? Well…)

Sena also knows Suzuna is almost done. He can see her in the doorway directly behind Kolache Guard, and through the haze of surveillance feeds she motions that she needs five more minutes. If possible, Sena sweats more.

“What are you doing out here so late?” Kolache asks, slipping into a more authoritarian tone.

He notices a few scratch-offs tucked between Kolache’s grip on the box. The single brain cell in his mind goes into overtime.

“Well,” Sena tries to remain composed. “I am on… a journey? To spread the, spread the happy news? I mean the good news!”

“Sorry, but I’m not interested,” Kolache starts to turn back around, but Suzuna is barely tucking the thumb drive and tablet into her bag.

“Wait! Sir, this is, I’m serious this is like. _So_ important, because we are actually raffling away items!” Suzuna closes the door quietly, then places the key copy back under its original hiding spot – a nearby rock (seriously?). “We’ve only, um, actually there’s been so few sign ups that the chances for someone to win are like – really good! There’s the newest smartphones and TV’s on the big ticket list.”

“So are you trying to sucker me in to joining some cult or buying tickets? I have a very important job to get to, buddy.”

“No it’s nothing like that! It’s, a promotion?” Sena sees Suzuna round the corner, nimble and quiet as a cat.

“You’re asking me?”

“Sir, you have a good night, sorry for bothering you.” Sena darts off before the guard can say anything, weaving through the weak spots in the security cameras that they had scoped out weeks ago.

He doesn’t stop running until he spots Suzuna texting at their meeting spot, underneath the metro overpass on Main St and First. It’s the seedier part of town, but there’s almost no traffic. Suzuna has already switched back into her favorite inline skates. Sena shucks off his slacks, leaving him in the basketball shorts he’d been wearing underneath, and shoves them in her bag.

“I hated that. I can’t emphasize enough how much I did not like that,” Sena mutters.

“The raffle idea was a nice touch.”

“You said you’d only need ten minutes!”

“Their connection was so slow! I can’t make the download go any faster, Sena,” she gives him a protein bar and Sena petulantly accepts. The way to his heart is through his stomach.

“Did you get what you needed?” Sena grumbles. They make their way up to the train station. He can feel his bed calling, wondering if he’s cheating on it with another bed. Ha ha. There is no other bed. There has never been another bed. Sena is losing his mind to sleep deprivation.

“I still have to go over the footage, but I’m almost one-hundred percent sure it’s all there.”

“I can’t believe we did that.”

“Are you enjoying the adrenaline rush?”

Not exactly. Sena’s boss is going to kill him when – not _if_ but _when_ – he find outs. “Won’t be enjoying it much when I have to be at work at seven in the morning.”

“Oh. I thought you were working nights now? I’m sorry.”

“No it’s okay. Just got called in. You know how it is.”

“Right.”

A small tense silence. Then:

“So what are you looking for anyway?” Sena asks.

“Sexual misconduct… sexual assault.” Suzuna’s face is stony. “Lots of complaints have been popping up and getting swept under the rug. Nothing has gone to the police. Yet. You know that company provides special security equipment to the city police departments? Time for proof to get out there.”

“The greater good, then.” Sena lets the information soak in as they pay for their tickets. They timed everything pretty well. Suzuna’s train is about to pull in, and Sena’s is only a ten minute wait.

“Yup.”

“I didn’t know anything about that,” Sena says.

“That’s how they like it. That’s why they need people like us.”

“You mean like you. You’re the one that likes writing.”

Suzuna freelances for the university’s newspaper when she can get the chance. She’s even beaten out some staff members for the front page spot a few times. The intercom announces Suzuna’s train.

“I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I’m really not a hero.” Sena bites his lip.

“You’re awfully modest today. Heroes don’t have to have superpowers or be detectives or whatever. They just have to do good things. We’re helping people out. We’re do-gooders.”

“I really am not.”

“Sena, you’re a good person. What is this self-deprecation?” she bonks him on the head with her umbrella. “I’ll see you Monday then. Unless you wanna go over this evidence with me tomorrow? _Sunday_ I mean? These time frames always confuse me.”

He doesn’t meet her gaze. “Have work.”

A small, tense moment.

“It’s only a few hours. We can hang out at eleven?”

Suzuna’s train arrives, “That works. Set an alarm so you don’t forget! Bye Sena!”

Sena waves her off.

. . .

So it goes like this, the first time:

The university plaza. A crisp fall afternoon, a little after one. Sena, getting out of class late _again_ because his professor has no sense of time. He’s weaving through the late-lunch crowd, passing some stairs on his way to his rundown apartment (thanks, Campus Life Services).

From the corner of his eye he sees a girl tripping down the stairs and about to crash into the pavement.

Before he can even think, he darts forward, and braces himself, wincing out a meek, “Watch out…!”

“What the hell?” the girl yells, confused as she topples over him. She gets off him quickly, brushes herself off. “Why did you get in the way?”

“No, that… sorry,” Sena mutters. The girl has the largest, bluest eyes he’s ever seen.

“Well, it’s nothing to apologize for. So thanks I guess, but I’m pretty good with these,” she motions to her inline skates, “We just gotta do a better at paying attention.”

She offers him a hand, and Sena realizes that he’s still flat on his ass. He accepts and hops up to his feet. He lets go of her hand like it burned him. She gives him a quick smile, and it’s like looking into the sun.

“See you around,” she says, gives a little wave, and skates off.

“Okay,” Sena blinks away sunspots as she rounds a corner, disoriented. ‘I’ll never see her again,’ he thinks, a little disappointed. There’s just some people who enter and leave your life like that. Then, “Wait! You dropped your phone!”

Sena scrambles after her, catches up just as she’s about to enter the ladies’ room.

“I – I have your –”

“Did you steal my phone in an attempt to talk to me some more?”

“What?! No—! You got it, you got it all wrong, I think it fell and…”

“I’m kidding, dude.” She grins again, impish, and Sena is blinded. She punches his arm lightly and takes her phone back. Her eyes snaps up quickly, and she gives him a once-over. “Just then, when you crashed into me – you were trying to protect me, huh?”

“Um…” Sena’s cheeks start growing warm.

“’Cause you ran all the way here from the plaza faster than it took me to _skate_ here. So you definitely could have avoided me. ”

“Erm… I…”

She laughs. Wind chimes, tinkling, delicate. “Thank you for not stealing my phone. I’m Suzuna by the way.”

“Sena! Nice to meet you!” They shake hands, and he hopes she doesn’t notice how sweaty his hand is.

“Sena,” she tries out the word. Scratching her cheek lightly, she says with some uncertainty, “Sooo… _Sena_ , do you want to get lunch?”

“With me? You and me? The, the both of us? Together? Right now?”

“Is there somewhere you gotta be?” Suzuna is looking at Sena like he’s a puzzle. He hopes he’s worth figuring out.

But there’s a clock on the wall, and it reads one-twenty-two. Shit. He’s running late.

“I, I have work in like – well, I should have left already so – I _can’t_ , but I would, _I would_ – you –” He’s dying.

“Dude, don’t worry,” she hands over her phone to Sena with a new contact page open for him to fill out. “We can raincheck. I also really have to use the restroom so maybe this is for the best. Like a sign?”

“Yeah, yeah, a sign,” Sena inputs his information with trembling fingers, and when he hands it back, Suzuna looks determined and friendly. Wait, no. She looks _determined_ to be friendly but – Sena deflates just slightly – nothing more. That has to be a record. “Um, just text me whenever.”

“Cool! See you around, Sena. Have a good day at work!”

“You too, thanks.”

Suzuna smiles and finally goes into the restroom. Sena realizes belatedly that he meant to say, “I meant that you have a good day,” but the door has already swung closed and he’s talking to no one.

His cheeks are red all the way to work.

She mercifully texts him later that night. They become best friends almost instantly, and the rest, as they say, is history.

They usually hang out on campus, squirreling away in whatever study spot they can find and take turns charging their laptops, or hang out at Doze. They never go to Sena’s apartment because it’s an absolute embarrassment, and Suzuna deserves better.

Sena knows basically everything about Suzuna – her flaws, the songs that annoy her to no end (which he has used only in the most judicious manner), her love life, her family life, her freelance work for the university’s newspaper – and it’s that last bit that is the most dangerous. Because although Sena knows everything about Suzuna, Suzuna knows very little about him.

Best friends are supposed to tell each other everything. If Sena doesn’t have Suzuna as a best friend, then what would they be?

It’s something they both skirt around, but it’s fine. Suzuna plays not to be bothered by it, but she slips up sometimes. It doesn’t happen often. It’s not a big deal; it’s the only thing that has ever made their friendship awkward.

Sena can’t tell her. Can’t tell anyone.

It’s fine.

. . .

Sena clocks into work bright and early at seven am. He hasn’t done more than change into his uniform when his boss’ voice crackles through the locker room intercom.

“Conference room, shortstack. Immediately.”

Sena’s shoulders are all the way up to his ears. He splashes himself with cold water and puts on his bravest face which, from a quick glance in the mirror, looks the same as a kitten that has been denied cuddles. Damn baby fat.

“Five…” The intercom says. “Four…”

Sena zips into the conference room before Hiruma can get past the ‘r’ in three. Hiruma is sitting at the head of the oval conference table, Musashi to his right manning the laptop, Tsuyumine to his left sipping from a mug of coffee. Hiruma’s wearing a black suit while Musashi wears his usual red bandana and too-tight white singlet. Tsuyumine has her medical scrubs on and doctor’s coat.

There’s video footage of Sena twitching at the security guard while Suzuna sneaks out of the building on the large screen TV mounted on the wall.

“Any last words?” Hiruma asks. His smile is too wide. His teeth are too sharp, and he has entirely too many.

“I can explain!”

“You think he can explain?” Hiruma asks Musashi in a quiet tone similar to one used to ask ‘you seeing this shit?’ Musashi rubs his jaws, peers intently at Sena who straightens up under his stare, really deliberates, before shrugging. Hiruma turns to Tsuyumine. “You think he can explain?”

“He can definitely try.”

“Heh. You hear that, pipsqueak? She’s giving you a chance.”

Sena clears his throat. “So… um…”

“I’ve heard enough,” Hiruma pulls out a semi-automatic M249 as his eyes white-out. “Verdict: _guilty_.”

“Wait no! No, please, I’m sorry! We were gathering intel!”

“You already used company time to gather that fucking intel!”

Musashi clicks, and screenshots of Sena’s internet searches pop up onto the TV.

“I thought I deleted that!”

“Nothing gets fucking past me! Say your prayers. Time for the rating.”

“R-Rating?” Sena trembles before them, a lamb in front of three uncaring wolves. “It… it wasn’t a company outing…”

“Any fucking time you go out there, disguise or not, you’re representing me, pipsqueak. You better believe you’re getting evaluated. Old man?”

“I’d say six out of ten. Mostly because you couldn’t use your full potential without blowing your cover. Nothing personal kid.”

Hiruma turns to Tsuyumine. “Doc?”

“Hm. Five out of ten. Only average. Underprepared, but still successful. You should be disciplined.” She motions at him with her wooden sword.

“Tsuyumine, _please_ …”

“My turn,” Hiruma says, black smoke spouting out of his mouth.

“Hiee!”

“One out of ten. Went in blindly without knowing the end goal. Terrible fucking disguise. Terrible fucking story. Got caught on fucking camera.” Tsuyumine covers her ears. Musashi plays that one song he always does when these things happen. Hiruma, aka the Captain from Hell, aka the most wanted supervillain in Japan, puts the automatic on its stand. “Punishment: death.”

“Wait, please! Captain—!”

The bullet hits Sena’s chest, dead center, knocking him back against the wall. He coughs, bile dripping from the corner of his mouth just as “Mm, watcha say? Mm, that you only meant well, well of course you did” bounces around the conference room. There’s tears at the corner of his eyes. He looks at Musashi with betrayed eyes. Musashi hides his snicker with a cough.

“Now, on to the meeting,” Hiruma presses his palm flat against the table, and a control panel glows on the surface. Tsuyumine, Musashi, and Hiruma clip on harnesses as he scans his hand.

The glow turns green as it accepts the identity authentication, and then the whole room plummets into the ground in a sheer vertical drop that lasts several seconds. Sena slams into the ceiling, his poor chest taking the brunt of the force. His groan is overshadowed by the room stopping. Sena is sent crashing to the floor, his head violently ricocheting off of the ground. His ears pop.

Sena moans again, in time with the “Mm, whatcha say? Mm, that it’s all for the best” warbling through his mind.

“Joining us any time soon?” Tsuyumine asks, still drinking her coffee. How it stayed in the mug is anyone’s question. “We still need to hear your explanation.”

Sena whimpers again. He digs for the bullet with trembling fingers, vision spotting when he scoops it out of his tender flesh. He sets the bullet on the table and collapses into a chair. The table fences the bullet into a square of light and begins analyzing it, as per usual.

“Suzuna found some shady things from—ah,” Sena winces as his sternum starts repairing. “Uzdraudze Intelligence. She mentioned sexual assault in the footage, possible police coverups. That’s all I know. She didn’t really share much.”

“Don’t sound so betrayed,” Tsuyumine says.

“I’m – I’m not. It’s just, I’m concerned…” Sena rubs at his chest. Only a faint scar is left, a soft pink star, and soon that will be gone too. His uniform is a different story. The bullet shredded through the nylon and shattered the carbon weave underneath.

“Leave your uniform and I’ll mend it back together,” Musashi says. “This is why you’re supposed to wear that utility vest.”

Sena can stand a lot of things, but Tsuyumine and Musashi being disappointed in him is not one.

“Yes, sir.”

“Stop pouting,” Tsuyumine says, without any real bite to her words.

“Enough,” Hiruma doesn’t look appeased despite venting his anger. He continues typing onto the table. Various popups glide around the surface, some with tables and graphics, most with large blocks of text. “This sneaking around with a damn journalist wannabe is done. Fucking idiot.”

Sena slumps into his chair as the Captain starts the meeting officially. He makes clear points about rival syndicates, skirmishes around their headquarters’ stronghold with said fringe groups, and new intel on rising heroes and established ones. Images flash onto the screen with every point.

Sena pretends not to look too intrigued into the last bit, but it’s hard to hide how much he perks up when Dark Knight is mentioned.

“His scheduled has been changed. Fucking annoying. He’s patrolling deep night now. Guess he caught on to you, half-pint.”

“Keep your hero crush in check,” Tsuyumine says, eyes teasing.

“My what.”

“Might want to put on your helmet,” Musashi says. “Hide your red face.”

“I—you—it’s nothing like—”

Hiruma zooms in to a photograph of Dark Knight, covered head to toe in high-tech tactical gear modeled after plate armor. He brandishes a trident, steadying himself for an attack. The Captain stares at Sena, analyzing him, before smirking.

Sena wisely puts his helmet on even though he’s pretty sure it’s too late.

“But we’re going to make this work for us,” the Captain says, long smirk in place, and he starts explaining the newest campaign.

Musashi and Tsuyumine are seasoned professionals with impeccable poker faces. Even with his helmet on, Sena is obviously doing the heavy lifting in the theatrical face department as the Captain spins his plans.

“Any questions?” the Captain barks.

“Do… do I have any say in this?” Sena asks.

“Of course not. Anyone else? No? Good. Twerp, get to medical. Doc, report back on the bullet along with his shit. Old man, take the desk. Let’s go. I got shit to do.”

The Captain says not to call it their hideout. They’re not hiding. It’s their headquarters. Still, their headquarters is located in a hidden basement level of a downtown building, only accessible through code. There’s an open training space with a few meeting rooms far in the back connected to a laboratory. An underground tunnel system veins its away around the city with the lair as its hub.

Their legal front – where Sena officially works as a secretary for a minor branch – is one of the country’s largest construction companies, which allowed for a lot of special projects to be added around to the city. Rome wasn’t built in a day. The Captain’s network might as well have been for how quickly everything came together.

Tsuyumine gives Sena a clean bill of health within five minutes and sets him free to go about his shift.

(It’s the longest five minutes of Sena’s life. Not because of any physical pain, but because he is genuinely terrified of the doctor.)

He goes to the locker room to change. His replacement suit is still made from the same tight, clinging material of his original one, but it’s bright red and white; and the helmet shape is different. It’s elongated to suggest the shape of muzzle. Though the helmet still has those damn bat ears on top. There is _no_ _reason_ for them to be so cutesy except for Musashi’s enjoyment at Sena’s expense. Sena also misses his utility vest. He feels too vulnerable without it.

When he’s finished, he glances at himself in the mirror.

Unrecognizable.

Part of the plan.

Musashi gives him a thumbs up once Sena gets to the tunnel system’s main entrance. The entrance opens, and Sena heads out.

. . .

Sena navigates the dark, maze-like tunnels expertly. He knows it like the back of his hand and has escaped into its network many, many times.

“ _Target is right above you."_ Musashi says into his ear piece. _“You should be able to hear it._ ”

Sena picks up the noises of loud crashes and yelling, a rumbling of vehicles, and distant police sirens.

“ _Head up there, only one hero has shown up._ ”

“Got it. Thanks Musashi.”

“ _Good luck kid._ ”

Sena takes off a red glove and scans his hand in order to open the slim, hidden entrance to the outside. He hoists himself over it quickly, rolling onto his feet, before peering out the side.

A grunt with a mutant power gets knocked down and crumples at Sena’s feet.

Making sure his lanyard is around his neck, Sena approaches the target.

_Name: Golden Era_

_Rank: 3 (down 2)_

_Official colors: Honey Gold TM, porcelain, black_

_Bio: Golden Era, the Perfect Hero, lives up to his highly touted fame. Paired with his superhuman abilities and invulnerability, his extensive reservoir of mixed-martial arts knowledge allows him to quickly take down foes. Golden Era frequently takes the Number One Rank in polls, though it is a highly contested spot. One of the few heroes that goes without an alter ego._

Golden Era is fighting through a crowd of low-level, muscle villains in front of the downtown bank. Civilians are screaming, running away from the attack in terror.

Golden Era is clearly waiting for backup, playing defense as he continues taking in the situation. Sena recognizes the ring leader instantly. Chameleon Rui, always trying to recreate the Captain’s success, lords over large amounts of flighty thugs, quantity over quality. He has half his troops raiding the bank, while the other half keep Golden Era busy trying to protect the escaping civilians from danger.

(The thing is, Golden Era has no physical or mental weaknesses. He’s a gifted genius and highly social. His only flaw, the only chip on the otherwise perfect visage, is his tendency to be self-absorbed.)

Sena’s eyes glow green safely behind his helmet’s eye shield. In front of him he sees dozens of futures overlaid onto his surroundings, each one connected by glowing paths of light representing choices, branching fainter as the outcomes become more uncertain. His mind flashes through the paths, finally selecting the one with the best result.

Sena flows in to the mob, taking out a few of the henchmen as politely as he can.

Golden Era tosses another henchman aside, spins abruptly to face Sena.

“My, aren’t you a pretty little house cat,” Golden Era says, his wavy brown hair falling into his face when he tilts his head. A group of four enemies attack him, but he takes them out at once, a flurry of debilitating strikes and blows.

Sena blinks.

“ _Focus you fucking—_ ” the Captain hisses before being cut off by a scuffle of Musashi trying to regain control of the mic.

“S-Sorry,” Sena says to Golden Era, trying to ignore the crunching sounds in his headset. “I’m here on the internship program, um, just for today, and it’s, well, it’s a lot.” Sena dodges a sucker punch to the back of his neck and returns an oblique kick, hyperextending his attacker’s leg, making him crumple in agony. “And, um, I’m not a cat.”

“Powers? I need to know what we’re working with. Super hearing, right?”

“R-Right. And, um, enhanced strength, and speed, and stuff.”

“You based your whole bat persona around super-hearing, and that’s your only sound based move? We’ll have a talk about that later. You’re still young, you can still change.”

Hiruma is cackling in his ear. Sena turns off his com, thankful the helmet is hiding his burning face, red as his uniform.

Chameleon calls in his remaining troops to protect their motorcycles as the first half storms out of the building, duffel bags laden with money and valuables. He steps up into the middle of the bank’s roof. He has a butterfly knife pressed tightly against a banker’s thin neck. His eyes are going crazy, twitching in every direction, clearly stressed.

“Listen up! You’re going to—”

“Okay, so.” Golden Era ignores Chameleon’s monologue. “A hostage situation. You ever dealt with this before?”

 _On the captor’s side_. “Sort of?”

“Better than nothing. Backup should be coming soon. We usually let the police take care of hostages, let them distract the villain while we sweep in for the extraction.”

A path dims before flickering off, and Sena’s heartbeat quickens. His head is starting to ache from constant use of his foresight. He only has a few more minutes of constant use left before only being able to activate it moments at a time.

“Did you—did you say ‘usually’?”

(“Hey! Are you fuckin’ heroes listening to me? I’ll kill her!”)

Sena barely has a moment to leap out of the way than a trident pierces the pavement he was just standing on. Dark Knight digs his trident out before attacking after Sena. He sweeps Sena’s feet out from under him and catches Sena’s body in the air with a powerful kick to the ribs.

Sena winces, twists in the air to land shakily on his feet. Dark Knight thrusts his trident at Sena’s neck, but Golden Era wraps his hand around the trident just before it can plunge into Sena.

_Name: Dark Knight_

_Current rank: 2 (+1)_

_Bio: Superhuman strength, speed, stamina and regeneration, and a keen strategist. Fights with a specially-crafted trident. A “genius”._

_Fun fact: Always described as a “dark horse” by the media, but doesn’t get nearly the recognition he deserves because of his more stoic personality. Drinks his coffee black. Doesn’t eat added sugar. Very careful about his nutrition and training regimen. 5’10.95”, 205 lbs, incredible muscle mass, thighs as thick as tree trunks. Will surprisingly sign autographs. Loyal to a fault._

“Woah, Dark Knight, what’s going on?” Golden Era asks.

“You don’t recognize him?” Dark Knight accuses.

“Should I?”

(Oh, Sena is just the infamous Devilbat, the Captain’s Hellish Fiend; just Dark Knight’s arch nemesis, genetically engineered to take down the Hero of Honor and perpetrate chaos; just about involved in every big plot to further the Captain’s mysterious and self-serving agenda to their frequent victories; no big deal.)

“I thought you were on the night shift!” Sena says, his heart fluttering.

“Stop talking,” Dark Knight says, grip tightening around his trident.

“Go easy on the newbie. His heart is going crazy.”

“He’s a villain.”

“ _This_ kid?”

(“Fine, bastards. I’m gonna head out then.”)

Dark Knight retracts his trident, presses a button so it becomes a svelte spear, and launches it at Chameleon who gets pinned by his white coat to the wall.

Sena gulps. _So… cool…_

(The sirens swell closer, and the police finally arrive. Chameleon’s troops hesitantly look back at their boss before their thin loyalty breaks and most make a run for it.

(“Come back, you useless bastards!” Chameleon’s long limbs flail about to no avail.)

“What are you doing here, Devilbat?”

“Who the hell is Devilbat?” Golden Era asks.

(That… kinda hurts Sena’s ego, he’ll admit.)

“I was just… um… in the neighborhood.”

“Look, we need to get to the matters at hand,” Golden Era tells Dark Knight. “We’re surrounded by goons, there’s the whole bank to take care of—”

Sena’s phone rings. Both heroes turn to him.

“If you don’t mind, I have to take this.” Sena excuses himself to see his reminder going off. His appointment with Suzuna. She’ll kill him if he misses their study session. “I’m so sorry, but I really have to go!”

“What?” Golden Era asks.

“I—I need to go clock out. My boss doesn’t like me doing overtime.”

“Very well,” Dark Knight grits out.

“You just said he was a villain.”

“He gets paid hourly,” Dark Knight says as way of explanation.

“Sorry, sorry! If I was salaried, I promise I would stay, but I really have to go.”

Sena takes in a deep breath, activates his foresight, and runs away, like the coward that he is.

. . .

There’s a wriggling in Sena’s stomach – a feeling of disgust worming its way through his soft insides – as he steps into the lair. Sena hands over his helmet to Musashi for processing. The sample of Golden Era’s hair he hands over to Tsuyumine.

The information the Captain shared at the meeting is only the tip of the iceberg. _Musashi_ probably doesn’t even know what the end goal truly is or which pieces are relevant to what steps.

Sena knows that his Captain – that _Hiruma_ – isn’t a good person. The Captain is the kingpin of an arms-dealing crime syndicate with blackmail on most politicians and civil servants.

Tsuyumine, despite her extremely powerful ability that could have been used to save lives, has tortured people at the Captain’s command, and had a past before joining.

Musashi has been by Hiruma’s side since they were children and has terminated many of Hiruma’s competition. He has killed.

Sena’s complicit with everything the Captain has done by default, but he’s never hurt anyone he didn’t have to, and he’s only working under Hiruma to pay his way through school.

(That’s what he tells himself at least. He doesn’t like thinking how he’s in the Captain’s Black Book, entangled forever with Japan’s infamous supervillain. It’s how he sleeps at night.)

(He no longer flinches at the smell of blood or unconscious bodies.)

(It’s fine.)

(As long as Suzuna never knows about any of this.)

(Suzuna can never—)

. . .

“Hey Sena, how was work?” Suzuna’s lounging in sweatpants, her short hair held back by glittery clips as she texts. She’s claimed the best study room on campus. Third floor of the engineering building, large window, reclining chairs. She has two takeout containers on the table. “I got us lunch.”

“It was good,” Sena says. Takes out his laptop and notes, finally caves and grabs one of the cardboard boxes. “I had to travel for a meeting and met some, some new clients. Thanks for the food.”

“Anytime,” Suzuna smiles at him, same blinding smile as always.

“Did you look through the tapes?”

“Yeah, but, um, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to think about them right now.”

“Right, of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t – I should have—”

“It’s okay, really.”

“Alright.”

Soon enough they manage to focus on their studies. An easy silence settles over them, and for that moment, Sena forgets about work, the stresses of the day, the aches in his body.

Just enjoys spending time with his best friend.

(It’s impossible for this to last. He’ll enjoy what he can.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noticed how I basically skipped the action scene? Yeah, that's because I can't write them :( Help ya girl out by leaving a review bc I wrote this in a two day binge after TWO YEARS of toying with the idea.
> 
> Lastly, I hope the hero names were obvious but if not, they should be pretty soon, or just ask below :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, he's hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters from here on out will not be as long, this just felt like the right amount to me.
> 
> There will probably be one more chapter within a month before my upload schedule becomes erratic and unpredictable by any math model so...
> 
> The action in this fic as a whole is supposed to walk the line between fast paced action and slapstick BTW. Yes I know the tone is all over the place. I have no self control.

The breakroom at work – the breakroom in the _lair_ – is pretty nice by all standards, especially considering that their entire staff size is just four people. The breakroom on the twelfth floor (that is, the breakroom of their supposed construction company) is only slightly bigger, and it has a moderate size of employees. The one thing both breakrooms share is the assortment of slot machines.

Sena doesn’t gamble, but he does abuse the assortment of soft drinks, teas, coffees, and hot cocoas, especially as the night gets later. Sena almost drops his still-steaming drink as Tsuyumine and Musashi enter in full uniform.

“I’m ordering takeout,” Musashi says. He takes a coke from the fridge, pops the top open, chugs half of it.

“I want Thai,” Tsuyumine says. She rinses the blood off of her gloved hands.

“We had that last time.”

“You know what happens if you don’t order Thai, right?” Tsuyumine points her wooden sword at him.

Musashi rolls a shoulder, “No use arguing, I guess. You want anything, Sena?”

“I’m alright. I’m going home soon. I’ll just eat when I get there.”

“You’re losing weight,” Tsuyumine says sharply. Sena doesn’t like when she uses her power on him outside of medical checkups.

“I’ve noticed, too,” Musashi says.

“Oh,” Sena sips his drink, burns the roof of his mouth. It really must be noticeable then. When was the last time he’s gone grocery shopping? He could swear he had some spam in the cupboard at least.

“Stay and eat,” Tsuyumine says while brushing out her blonde hair from the usual braid she puts it in when in gear. “You can study here. I’m saying this as your doctor.”

“But… I had something planned with Suzuna…”

“Hm,” Tsuyumine says.

Musashi rubs the scruff on his chin. He’s chewing over something, looking at Sena with critical eyes, but decides against saying it. He goes back to his phone and starts placing an order. He includes Sena’s favorite curry, too.

“Wait, did you guys go on a campaign? Did I miss it?” Sena checks his notifications with frantic eyes.

“No,” Tsuyumine kicks her feet up. “I don’t let you miss appointments.”

“I—don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”

A sly glance between Musashi and Tsuyumine pass.

“You said you’re meeting your girlfriend? At two in the morning? Jesus, when do you sleep?”

“I get enough,” Sena says, a half-truth. It’s mostly a lie. Hiruma had made it so that Sena can get by on five hours a night – had grumbled that Sena’s shitty genetics couldn’t go lower without affecting Sena’s psyche in drastic ways – but Sena usually averages a solid three. (Which explains a lot about his personality.)

“Your height says otherwise. That’s my medical opinion.”

“I thought you got your license revoked…”

Sena could have dodged the wooden sword pressed against his neck, but he doesn’t, for the dramatics of it. The practice sword is fine, Tsuyumine’s brass knuckles are when he starts to really cower.

“I thought _you_ were failing Calc 3.”

“Children,” Musashi’s tone is flat, unbothered. He shakes a hand between them, waving away the tense atmosphere. Tsuyumine sheaths her sword. “Play nice. Just thirty minutes while the food gets here,” he says before going upstairs to wait for their order.

Soft scratches fill the room as Sena works on his math homework under Tsuyumine’s scrutinizing eyes. Sena says petulantly after the third failed attempt on a problem, “We’re hanging out tomorrow. At her house. I just want to, you know, just want to be well rested. And she’s not my girlfriend, she’s my—girl… friend.”

Tsuyumine taps the paper where Sena has made a simple mistake in his arithmetic. “But you want her to be.”

Sena sometimes forgets how cold Tsuyumine is. She knows it’s a sore topic for him. But, much like Hiruma and Musashi, she only cares about progress and doesn’t sugar coat her opinions when she thinks such progress will be impeded.

“I like—I like Suzuna just fine as a friend. She doesn’t… it’s fine.”

Not long after, Musashi sets the takeout on the counter.

“He’s lovesick,” Tsuyumine tells Musashi.

“Ever since he got moved to nights. I think he misses Dark Knight.”

“Not who I was talking about, but, point,” Tsuyumine laughs and takes her plate on the way out the door. “I’ll be in the lab.”

Sena busies himself looking for his order (it’s the only one left), stuffs his warm face inside the plastic carryout bag.

Musashi takes his food upstairs, and Sena eats his curry alone in the kitchen. Better than eating microwaved spam and dry rice alone, though.

“You’ll like him! He’s a goon, but he’s pretty chill,” Suzuna says as they enter her building in the nicer part of the city.

It’s early evening, the sun just setting through the cityscape, and rapidly getting colder out.

Even though they’ve been friends for over a year, they still haven’t gone over to her place. Sena’s never pushed, given how he’s never invited her over, either. Suzuna insisted he have dinner with her since her brother would actually be home for once.

“He does IT? Not too sure actually. I think he fixes electronic stuff, which is such a joke because he always breaks things at home. He broke two of my Alexas.”

“But you don’t even have to touch those?”

“I know.” They pass by the doorman who gives Suzuna an affectionate nod but eyes Sena calculatingly over the newspaper’s pages. Maybe he should have worn sneakers without holes.

They take the elevator up to Suzuna’s floor, chatting idly while walking down the hall. She unlocks the apartment, revealing a sleek open-plan space. The back wall is all dark windows and every surface is smooth, white marble.

Standing by the kitchen island, with his back to the front door, is who Sena assumes is Suzuna’s brother. He’s wearing a rumpled button up with the sleeves rolled up and stained sweatpants. Even without seeing his expression, the man looks tired.

“Hey, Seijuro, we’re home. This is my friend Sena. I’ve told you about him,” she gestures to Sena as they slip off their shoes. “Sena, this is my brother Seijuro.”

Seijuro turns around in greeting and pauses for a moment, eyes darting from Sena to Suzuna once, before settling back on Sena. He offers his hand slowly, either disapproving or suspicious. With Sena’s luck, probably both.

“N-Nice to meet you, sir,” Sena shakes his hand. This Seijuro guy is really tall. Intimidating. Familiar?

(“Oh God, don’t call him ‘sir’,” she makes a fake retching sound behind him. Suzuna was never one for formalities.)

Seijuro says, carefully, “Nice to meet you, too.”

Sena’s smile fades. He knows that voice. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. His heart starts beating humming-bird-wing fast.

Suzuna’s brother is none other than Sena’s number one enemy. Dark Knight.

Dark Knight pinpoints the moment he is recognized, and his features, that were wary, now turn defensive. Sena swallows thickly, starts going over his mental map of the building in case he needs to escape. Would Dark Knight blow his cover in front of his sister? Did Dark Knight think he was here for some nefarious reason? Sena is here for dinner and studying, but there’s no way Dark Knight would believe that.

“Uh, what are you guys doing?” Suzuna asks. Sena and Seijuro are still holding onto each other.

“Nothing!” Sena snatches his hand back.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Seijuro ignores Suzuna’s insinuating tone. He heads back to the kitchen though he never fully turns his back on Sena. “Koharu will be here soon.”

“Oh. Your friend from work?”

“Something like that,” Seijuro says, voice low.

Sena’s quickly losing his appetite. A girlfriend, then? Archangel definitely isn’t named Koharu. All the tabloids were wrong about those two then.

“I’m gonna change real quick,” Suzuna says. “You can go help in the kitchen if you want, Sena.”

“He’s a guest,” Seijuro says, “There’s no need.”

“Everyone’s gotta earn their keep,” she shrugs off Seijuro’s protest and skips to her room.

As soon as the door closes, Dark Knight rushes Sena, a knife flashing in hand. Sena rolls out of the way just barely, but isn’t able to get up fast enough, and Dark Knight pins him down with a forearm to the collarbone. Dark Knight has the knife against Sena’s throat. Sena’s hands are around Dark Knight’s grip, keeping the sharp blade from pressing any closer to his skin.

“What are you doing here, Devilbat?” Dark Knight demands, voice low to avoid being overhead.

“I-I’m just here for _dinner_ ,” Sena says emphatically as he can in a stage whisper. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Dark Knight keeps pressing. “Is that a serious question? I live here. This is some kind of trick…” Dark Knight mutters. “Did your Captain send you?”

“ _No_ ,” Sena’s muscles strain with the effort of keeping the knife at bay. “Suzuna’s my friend!”

“ _Just_ friends?”

“What?”

Dark Knight is off of him in the blink of an eye. Sena feels himself pulled upright like a ragdoll, and the sudden stop makes his head snap back, causing him to feel woozy, and he stumbles slightly. He’s caught by the arm. He blinks blearily, looks up to see Dark Knight entirely too close.

“Am I interrupting something?” a soft voice asks. At the entrance is a beautiful young woman. She has a kind face, looking at the pair with confused amusement in her dark eyes.

“Koharu, you’re early,” Seijuro says.

Suzuna asks innocently from where she’s leaning against the hall wall, changed into comfy sweats, “You protecting Sena from a tomato or something?”

Sena focuses his whirling brain to take in the picture Suzuna and this Koharu must be seeing: Seijuro basically draped over Sena, and Sena basically cradled to Seijuro’s chest. And there’s a knife (?!?).

Seijuro drops his hands inhumanly fast and steps away, but neither Suzuna nor Koharu notice.

“You see,” Sena’s voice is pitched high. There’s no good way to explain this. “You see, um, D— mister—? Um, _Seijuro_ was just… showing me the knife! It’s really nice! Yup! I don’t own any good ones like this. Gonna go buy one. Uh! My name is Sena by the way! It’s nice to meet you, Miss Koharu!” Sena bows frantically, but Koharu just smiles with a gentle ease, and shakes his hand. It’s really soft.

Seijuro can’t seem to think of a better excuse, so he adds, defeated, “I was just showing him the knife.”

“It must be really nice, then,” Koharu laughs, a charming sound. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Sena. Please feel free to call me Koharu. I wanted to help with dinner. And I brought a present,” she pulls out a fancy, frosted container from the paper bag at her side. “Everyone likes ice cream, right?”

“I do!” Suzuna says from the kitchen, scavenging in the fridge.

Sena didn’t bring anything. Suzuna had told him not. This is definitely the last time he listens to her. He blinks at Dark Knight. “I thought you didn’t eat processed sugars,” Sena blurts.

Seijuro’s face is blank. Processing. “I usually don’t,” Seijuro says in that careful tone he uses when reporters ask him personal questions.

“I didn’t, oh, I forgot,” Koharu stammers, “I’m sorry Seijuro! I should have realized. You’re always so careful about what you eat when we go out.”

“It’s nothing to worry about. Thank you for the gift,” Seijuro takes the paper bag while Koharu hangs her camel coat up and steps out of her shoes. Sena stares at his hole-ridden sneakers next to her shiny loafers.

This leaves Seijuro and Koharu, and Sena. Koharu smiles patiently at him while Seijuro remains stiff as a board.

Right. Of course. Sena’s an outsider, so he excuses himself to the kitchen on the pretense of helping.

He can’t help himself, though, and listens in to what they whisper to each other while finishing up the salad with Suzuna:

“I apologize for how I look,” Seijuro says, “I was going to change before you got here.”

“You know I don’t care about that sort of stuff.” A beat. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you.” Another beat. “I shouldn’t have said that, I know you said, taking it slow. And saying sappy things like that. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I apologize, some things are happening at work. I’m distracted.”

“I understand. Please talk to me if you need to, okay?”

Sena sneaks a glance, and Koharu looks so sweet and genuine looking up at Dark Knight in the soft light.

The cutting board clangs against the white countertop. “Oh my god,” Sena holds up the pieces of the once-whole board. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

“You been working out?” Suzuna teases.

“I, I guess there was a crack in it and I cut down on it or – I’m so sorry!”

“Dude, it’s no big deal. I’m a little impressed actually. Besides, we’re done.” She adds a finishing touch of dressing to the salad and brings it over to the table to accompany the rest of the spread.

“We got carried away talking,” Koharu says when she walks over with Seijuro in tow. By the hand. “I promise I’ll help clean up to make up for it.”

“You’re a guest,” Seijuro insists.

They take their seats. The table is square and intimately small. Sena’s across from Seijuro and can’t help looking every time Koharu’s hand grazes against Dark Knight’s. Under the anxiety of being in his enemy’s home, Sena feels—betrayed, but can’t quite place his finger on why.

“Seijuro, I want to help me. It’s really no bother.”

“Alright,” Seijuro acquiesces under Koharu’s gentle but firm insistence.

“Suzuna, how’s school going? It feels like it’s been a long time since we talked.”

Suzuna talks animatedly with Koharu over her latest story for the school paper, doesn’t mention walking in on Seijuro crowding Sena thankfully, but Sena barely follows what’s being talked about.

Sena’s sweating bullets. His eyes dart around, absorbing information. That’s the most valuable thing he can give the Captain. Guilt worms its way into his stomach, takes his appetite. He feels nauseous.

Across from him, Seijuro bores holes into Sena, glaring at him sternly beneath his thick eyebrows. Seijuro’s clutching a butter knife in a white-knuckled grip. (Sena, interestingly enough, was not given a knife.) He tracks every bite Sena eats, every sip he takes, every little movement, trying to anticipate if Sena will attack (spoiler: Sena has no plans to do such a thing).

There’s no denying the edge this situation gives Sena. Not every hero or villain has an alter ego, but Seijuro does. Nothing is known about Dark Knight’s civilian life. All the rumors in superhero forums can’t seem to agree on anything. Sena steals glances at the other’s appearance until it’s memorized, certain that he could pick the hero out in public. (Dark Knight would probably have a bigger fan base if he didn’t hide so much of his face, Sena thinks idly then balks at the thought.) 

How come Suzuna has never put two and two together? Suzuna’s always itching for a story and has developed keen observational skills. Seijuro’s frame is well hidden under his baggy clothes, and Dark Knight has never shown his face. But still, sneaking under an aspiring journalist’s nose like that…

“—Sena?” Koharu asks.

Sena snaps out of his thoughts. He blinks a few times. No idea what’s happening.

“Haha, yeah,” he eats another piece of fish, barely tastes it over the adrenaline.

“Koharu asked how your classes are going,” Seijuro says.

“S-Sorry. Right, of course, I was just—classes are good, they’re going good?”

“Don’t mind Sena, he’s just shy. He’s studying business management,” Suzuna tells her brother, who looks unimpressed, before addressing Sena: “You’re so spacy all of a sudden, dude. Wonder what has you so distracted.” Sena doesn’t like the way her tone sounds. “And _you_ ,” she points at Seijuro before teasing: “Well, I don’t wanna embarrass you in front of our guests.”

She gives them both a knowing a look. Like a cat with canary feathers around its mouth.

“My brother’s single, y’know?”

“Suzuna—!” Seijuro says.

“I wouldn’t—!” Sena insists.

Koharu smiles weakly.

“Kidding! Or am I? No, I am,” Suzuna clears her throat lightly, “Speaking of. Uh, Seijuro? I remember you guys wanted to tell me something? You and Koharu? Together? Wanted to say something? _Hmm_?”

As if it hadn’t been clear from the beginning to Sena, from the moment gentle Koharu walked in and looked at Dark Knight with her trusting dark eyes _like that_ , what was going on. Sena takes another bite of salad, grimaces slightly at the unexpected bitterness of the carrots.

Koharu’s hand rests lightly over Seijuro’s arm. “It’s sort of last minute, this dinner. But Seijuro was in town for work, and I actually got out at a reasonable hour, sooo…”

Seijuro gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Koharu has been asking about you,” he tells Suzuna. Sena should not be here.

Koharu beams, expecting more.

Seijuro’s distrustful eyes connect with Sena, “I wanted you both to meet. That’s all.”

“Uh,” Suzuna says, taken aback. “Oh. Okay. Sure.” Suzuna pushes her rice around a bit. “But we’ve met before.”

“I wanted you both to meet formally. In a proper setting.”

“There’s _nothing_ else you want to say?”

“Not at the moment.”

Koharu gets up from the table without looking at Seijuro, and he doesn’t make a move after her. “I’m getting dessert,” she mumbles.

The clattering of silverware against ceramic is heard as Koharu carries over the dessert bowls.

“Thank you,” Sena says weakly to his ice cream.

“Of course,” Koharu says. Red-rimmed shiny eyes, blotching cheeks, but she carries the conversation by herself while her ice cream melts in its bowl. “Any plans for the weekend? I was supposed to stay a few more days, but… ah, well my job is very demanding.”

“There was a concert I wanted to go, but I don’t wanna go by myself and Sena here,” Suzuna jerks her thumb at him. “He only has time for school and work. I practically had to beg him to come over tonight. He doesn’t even party.”

Sena being revealed as a loser does nothing to ease the jagged line of Seijuro’s shoulders. Sena should just have stayed at home.

They finish eating in relative peace, and Seijuro and Koharu clear the table while Sena and Suzuna head to her room.

“Leave the door open,” Seijuro says. A threat. Sena gulps.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” Suzuna says. “We’re just friends! What makes you think he’s going to, like, pull a move?”

“Suzuna, please,” Sena whispers. Dark Knight probably wouldn’t outright kill him, but there’s always a chance, and he would like to live long enough to graduate and get out of the villain business. Seijuro glowers at Sena, and Sena sends a complicated series of eyebrow movements to say: ‘Please believe that we’re friends, and please don’t kill me, sir.’

“Door open,” Seijuro insists.

“Maybe I should be worried about you two?” Suzuna asks. Koharu stiffens while washing the dishes. “I didn’t mean, shit. Uh, have a good night,” Suzuna hurries to her room (a tactical retreat in Sena’s opinion) with a gaping Sena in tow.

Still, Suzuna leaves the door open and gets comfortable on her bed with her laptop and journal, leaving the desk for Sena. There’s string lights slung across the ceiling, pale green linen on her bed, family among ones with her friends through the years on the wall. Suzuna puts on some nondescript study music, already writing down notes.

If it weren’t already such a weird night, Sena is pretty sure he might have exploded for being in Suzuna’s room. It’s such an intimate, private setting. Sena sits at her desk, wonders at the stubby pencils she keeps, charmed by the stickers glued to the table top.

(He hopes his crush will go away soon.)

Despite her teasing nature, Suzuna is serious about her studies. She had horrible grades when she was younger, and she doesn’t want to repeat that now that there’s more at stake. Sena related to that, which is what makes them such good study partners.

Sena tries to focus on his notes, but his ears dial in to the outside conversation:

“I’m sorry about that,” Seijuro says.

“Did I do something?”

“No, no.”

“Was it—was it the ice cream?”

“No, this isn’t about that.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Koharu, right now just isn’t the right time.”

“You said before,” Koharu’s voice is thick. “You said you were ready to take the next step…”

“Things have changed—”

“With us?”

“No, not exactly—”

“Then what things?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try? For me?”

“It’s just a difficult time right now, Koharu.”

“I know you said that, that expressing your feelings, that it’s hard for you but… I try so hard for you, and our—our _relationship_. Sometimes you’re next to me, but I can’t—it’s like I can’t even feel you.”

“Give me some time. There’s a few things I need to get in order.”

“It’s been _ten_ _months_. I know you’re not the type to string someone along. What aren’t you telling me?”

Silence.

With shaking breath, Koharu murmurs, “I love you. No, no, please, stop. I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it back. I’m going to go. I need to think.”

“Koharu, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Koharu says, and she really does sound sincere. “To be honest, I’m not sure what you want right now. And I thought, you know when we first started dating. I thought I would be okay with that, but I don’t think — I just have this feeling — that it won’t be what I want.”

Seijuro breathes out, “Let’s talk in the morning. I’ll call you, okay? Let me walk you to your car.”

A hesitant pause. “Okay.”

Sena’s half-way through a chapter he has absorbed none of, when Seijuro appears in the doorway.

“Get out of my room,” Suzuna says, all bark and no bite. She doesn’t even look up from her laptop.

“I’m not in your room.” It’s technically true. Seijuro is still in the hallway, the tips of his feet barely not-touching her carpeted floor. Sena never would have pegged Seijuro as an annoying older brother type, but he supposes some roles are universal. “I’m seeing Koharu out, and then I have to go back to work. I was just called in.”

“I thought you were staying tonight,” Suzuna pretends not to be hurt. “I thought we were watching a movie later.”

“It’s an important client. I’ll make it up to you,” Seijuro enters her room and gives Suzuna a gruff one-armed hug. Sena’s gathered that Seijuro doesn’t really do affection, but that he’s trying for his sister. They’re all they have left, after all.

“Ugh, gross,” Suzuna says but hugs back. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“A few days. Maybe three.” Seijuro ruffles her hair. Sena feels like he shouldn’t be intruding on this family matter, so he pretends to highlight his textbook.

“Yeah, okay, okay.”

“I’ll bring you something back,” he promises. He turns to Sena. “It was nice meeting you,” Seijuro lies, and Sena gets the message: ‘I will hurt you’ loud and clear.

“You too, um, Sei—Mister—um…”

Suzuna sends Seijuro a pointed look. He shifts his weight a bit, before he grits out through clenched teeth, “You may call me Seijuro.”

“R-Right, sure, thank you?”

Seijuro leaves, looking less than enthused at the idea of his nemesis being alone with his only family member. Sena tries to send a reassuring smile but he’s pretty sure it comes out more like a panicked grimace.

Suzuna looks out the door contemplatively.

“Are you okay?” Sena asks.

“Hm? Yeah, I guess. Weird night, huh?”

The front door closes, and they hear the lock go into place. Suzuna takes in a breath to stabilize herself, “Oh my god, are _you_ okay? What was that between you two?”

“What was what?”

“You serious? You were seconds away from tearing each other apart the whole night!”

“Tearing—? No, you have the wrong idea.” Suzuna couldn’t be closer yet further from the truth.

“I’ve never seen my brother act like that,” she says.

“Probably just—stress from work or something…” Sena ignores his heart beating faster at her words. “Maybe something with Koharu?”

“I don’t know what he and Koharu’s deal is though. I’ve met her a few times before, and at first I was like, I’m not gonna like her, but she’s a sweetheart. They’re like on again off again, but I’ve never seen him like that. Maybe they’re really gonna call it quits,” she scribbles more in her notebook. “She was kinda too good for him, anyway. Gorgeous, successful, gracious. Seijuro’s too, like, _argh_ , you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

Suzuna mulls over the next thing she says for a good moment. “You know I wouldn’t care if you liked my brother.”

“ _No_ ,” Sena says. “Wait, does this mean I’m not too good for him? I feel like I should be insulted. Where is this coming from?”

“You’re kinda his type anyway. Tiny brunettes with big, soft eyes and cute, flustered personalities.”

Sena lets out a strangled noise. “Suzuna, _please_.”

“You’re getting a little red.”

“I—I’m leaving.”

“Leaving right after my brother isn’t helping your case. Whatcha gonna do? Dramatically stop him just as he leans in to give Koharu their final kiss goodbye?” Sena and Suzuna share the following silence. “God, sorry, that was mean. I just don’t want my brother to end up alone. He’s twenty-seven and never had a girlfriend. I thought Koharu would be it.” She’s open with her concern, voice delicate when she asks, “What do you think of him?”

. . .

So it goes like this, the first time, when Sena’s just turned eighteen:

They’re in the bowels of Liquide Tech’s building, in an underground floor so deep it’s basically hidden. The cleanroom has a heavy vault door at the entrance. Hiruma and Tsuyumine ( _no, no, the Captain and Sukeban, those are their names now)_ are extracting an experimental protein gel, and Sena’s only mission, his singular purpose in this whole campaign, is to give them enough time to get it and get out.

(He still has enough energy to question his battle kit, which is skin tight and has silly little bat ears atop his helmet. Tsuyumine, Musashi, and Hiruma all have the same uniform when they go out on campaigns. Ballistic helmets; sturdy combat uniforms in dark, disruptive-camouflage tiger stripes; carbon-weave body armor underneath.)

It’s already been over an hour since they bypassed security and infiltrated the lab. The Captain took the time to clean, oil, and reassemble his firearms in preparation. Sukeban meticulously prepared the transport solution, cooling block, and vacuum chamber required to extract the protein under Musashi’s monotone guidance in the near black. All lighting fixtures were shattered since the Captain’s team works best in the dark.

Throughout that hour, Sena was told – several times – not to speak and to stop being annoying, which, fair enough. He almost paced a hole into the ground.

Musashi murmurs into his earpiece details on the enemy, and Sena fights the urge to gulp.

For whatever reason, the Hero Headquarters has decided that their little caper requires the immediate attention of one Archangel and Dark Knight. Past the heavy, reinforced vault door of the lab, Sena hears two sets of footsteps approach and slow down at the far end of the hallway that leads up to the lab.

(Why _did_ Hero HQ send out the big guns? What is so special about that sample? No one tells Sena anything.)

He hopes they can’t overhear his furiously beating heart; it’s the loudest thing he can hear at the moment.

 _Focus_ , he thinks. Tsuyumine trained him, Musashi trained him, _Hiruma_ trained him. He just needs to last long enough. He just needs to _focus_.

Neither Archangel nor Dark Knight have enhanced senses. They’re practically blind in the darkness and overly cautious if their slow shuffling is anything to go by.

“Show time,” the Captain readies a high-caliber rifle. He looks like a demon. He uses a special vantablack war paint. It reflects virtually no light, making him practically anonymous as it hides the shadows of his face. Only his piercing eyes and trademark smile can be seen, the face people fear is under their bed.

Sena has never been happier that they’re on the same side.

“How much longer, Doc?” the Captain barks.

“Five minutes,” Sukeban says, peering intently at her work. The only light comes from the vent hood she hasn’t moved from.

“You got three.”

“I said what I said,” she doesn’t look up, discards a pipette tip onto the ground.

“Hmm, is that so?” the Captain’s smile grows wider.

The vault door of the lab shudders as Archangel strikes at it with her sword from the other side. The hollow clanging echoes through the room. The smell of hot steel fills the air.

“Fine. Three minutes.”

“Are we – am I – supposed to do something?” Sena asks.

“Kill them,” the Captain growls as the lab’s sturdy door bursts open in a spatter of molten steel.

And there they are. This is the first time Sena’s ever seen them this close. A small part of him isn’t nervous, but excited. Who wouldn’t be at seeing Heaven’s Striker and the Symbol of Honor? Archangel’s sword is alit with holy fire as she points it at the Captain.

“Even if the police have given up, I won’t let you get away—”

The Captain doesn’t let Archangel finish before firing a round at the heroes.

“Won’t let me get away with it, huh?” the Captain says, rolling behind desk for cover. Already the room is filled with thick, black smoke that emanates from him. “Welcome to the jungle, fuckers.”

Archangel erupts from the smolder, charging at Hiruma. The Captain slides under her attack and shoots point blank into her stomach. The shot pushes her back enough for the Captain to get some space. She slashes again, unfazed, gritting her teeth.

(That’s not the calm, collected Archangel the media portrays, Sena notes.)

She and the Captain become entwined in a deadly battle, attacks almost synchronized. Their long standing feud is no secret. Enemies from the beginning, they know each other too well to be caught by surprise.

Sena on the other hand, has never even fought someone seriously, much less someone like _the_ Dark Knight. He’s much bigger in person, broad across the shoulders, dangerous with his spear in hand, assessing Sena.

“That’s your fucking nemesis, intimidate him!” the Captain yells as Archangel repeatedly smashes his skull into the linoleum. He bucks up from underneath her, sending her sprawling, and reloads an AK47.

“ _Buy more time_ ,” Musashi says into his earpiece between instructions.

The gunshots thunder in the air, remind Sena of where he is. He closes his eyes and starts his timer. When he opens them, they burn green. Beyond him lay numerous paths of light superimposed over what he’s seeing. Sena rifles through the paths, before deciding on the one where he leaps over Dark Knight and lands lightly on his feet, standing between him and Doc. He has his weighted baton in hand.

Dark Knight doesn’t waste time, doesn’t say anything, just swings at Sena. The spear wizzes past Sena’s ribcage, Sena barely dodging it in time.

Dark Knight is faster and stronger than anyone he’s ever sparred with.

(It’s… it’s kind of incredible.)

Dark Knight fakes a jab and punches Sena’s helmet hard enough for the visor to crack. Sena whimpers.

“You spineless coward!” the Captain seethes, as he swings his AK like a baseball bat. It connects with Archangel’s nose; her head snaps to the side. She sniffs before letting out an angelic shriek directly aimed at the Captain.

Sena’s only just keeping up with his futuresight as it guides him through the fight, but he’s slipping up. He grunts as an elbow connects to his chin when Dark Knight gets past his defense. Pain bursts across his jaw, wet and pulsing. He sputters and glides back into the smoke. Blood and bile spills bitter on his tongue.

No one – not Musashi, not Tsuyumine, not _Hiruma_ – has ever hurt him like this. Only Dark Knight has made him feel –

A downward strike from the staff of the spear smashes into his shoulder, makes it crack and dislocate grotesquely. Sena gasps in pain.

The beginnings of a migraine are starting to form as Sena continues using his foresight. On top of that, his body is starting to work against him. His constant regeneration is eating up his energy. Condensation fogs his helmet with every tired pant he lets out.

Not even his padded helmet is able to soften the next head blow. His vision begins spotting; black, sharp pain piercing between his eyes.

He realizes this is his limit. Months of training have only given him three minutes’ use of his powers.

Dark Knight tosses him to the side. “I’m sorry to say you are outmatched.” His voice is low; it’s Dark Knight speaking gently, though Sena’s head trauma might be messing with his hearing. “You’re young and inexperienced, and I can’t fault you for being under a bad influence, but your choices are your own. Please reconsider what you are doing. These people will not hesitate to leave you behind.”

(Hiruma Tsuyumine Musashi aren’t family but they are family they are all he has they took him in they would never)

_(would they?)_

Over the din of the gunfire, holy fire, rubble of the building collapsing around them, Hiruma’s cackle carries, dark and eager, “He’s faster than you are, you fucking white knight.”

Dark Knight pauses, shakes his head once, before turning to Sukeban.

Sukeban, to her credit, barely flinches through everything.

“I need one more minute,” she tells Sena, still not looking up.

“You are being detained,” Dark Knight says. “Stop what you are doing immediately and turn around.”

“I said I need a goddam minute,” she bites out.

The Captain is still fighting against Archangel – both trying to strangle each other at the moment – so it has to be Sena. He has to get up. He has to move.

“Very well,” Dark Knight says, charging forward.

He has to –

Sukeban finishes packing the sample in dry ice. “Let’s go, Devilbat.” She springs forward, brass knuckles glinting in the firelight. Dark Knight dodges easily her flurry of kicks and punches and doesn’t seem too affected by the ones that land. Sukeban looks over Dark Knight’s shoulder and nods at Sena imperceptibly.

Sena knows immediately that she’s creating one chance for him. Dark Knight’s back is unprotected, and if he’s fast enough –

This is the _only_ chance she can create –

He’s just has to be – just has to be –

His head shrieks with agony as he activates his power, his eyes feel like they’re burning out of his skull, but this time there is only one path. He sprints forward and latches on to Dark Knight’s collar, heaves, and throws him over his shoulder.

Dark Knight flies through the air like a bullet, knocking into Archangel. Their heads bang together. They crash against the far wall, cracking the cement.

Sena takes Sukeban by the wrist, the sample in her grasp, races to get the Captain.

“Finally,” the Captain smirks. Archangel and Dark Knight dazedly get up but can’t react before the Captain detonates the explosives he laced throughout the room.

Sena lugs Tsuyumine and Hiruma away just as the room explodes behind them and doesn’t stop running until he’s outside the building.

Musashi already has the van running.

Sena slips when getting into the back and collapses onto the van’s floor. He’s nothing but trembling legs and roiling stomach as the adrenaline rush tapers. He’s sweating profusely under his costume, feels the material stick even more tightly to his skin. He can’t see, vision blinding white. He throws up inside his helmet.

“Dammit, kid,” Musashi grumbles, but passes back a water bottle and a bucket.

“You almost gave me whiplash,” Tsuyumine gripes under her breath. “Never seen you go that fast.”

She takes off Sena’s helmet, wipes the vomit from his face, and leans him against the side of the van so he can take sips of water.

“I couldn’t,” Sena’s hoarse voice cracks. He blinks heavily as he starts seeing his surroundings again. “I couldn’t see for… for the last, um, last few seconds.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Hiruma says, typing. His face is covered in blood (not all his own), hands covered in carnage, sharp teeth red and glinting as he grins smugly.

“Happens when you overdo it like that,” Tsuyumine presses one hand against Sena’s chest and grips his bicep, causing him to wince. “On the count of three I’m going fix your shoulder. One…”

“Wait wait _wait_ please don’t—”

She pops his shoulder back with a loud crunch, and Sena screams into his fist.

“I thought you would do it on three…”

“Keep it down back there,” Musashi says. His eyes keep flashing in the rearview mirror. With concern, Sena is tempted to say, but his eyesight is still a little wonky so who knows? The van goes into an underpass, desolate at three in the morning. Musashi presses a button on the van’s console, and drives them into a secret opening.

Tsuyumine finishes examining him and gives him an energy bar. Unlike Sena, there’s no tell when’s she uses her superpower. Tsuyumine has some type of fluoroscopic vision that only on organic matter. Basically a live x-ray movie. Incredibly useful when a patient needs to be imaged on the fly, like while they’re in the back of a van speeding away from a crime scene.

Hiruma kicks Tsuyumine, doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she says, but starts bandaging Hiruma up anyway. Hiruma and Tsuyumine are both superhumanly resilient, but lack regenerative abilities to the extent that Sena has. “Bruised ribs will take a day to heal. You’re going to have that concussion for at least three.”

“Whatever,” but Hiruma closes his laptop.

Tsuyumine reclines back in her seat, wrapping her broken knuckles which will need a few hours before they’re back to normal.

“Um,” Sena says. His lashes keep fluttering while he struggles to eat the bar. Exhaustion is setting in. “Dark Knight… He’s…”

“A fucking monster,” Hiruma says with a face full of gore and fangs.

(The word Sena is looking for is _amazing_ , but sure.)

“Y-Yeah…” Sena shifts, breath hitching as his ribs complain. Tsuyumine glares at him above shining her brass knuckles, so he finishes the bar off. It eases his nausea.

“It’s only this time,” Hiruma’s hunched over his seat while he rubs his face with a towel. There’s no denying his dark amusement. “This is just the first of the many fights you’ll have with him. But this time, you win.”

Sena doesn’t say how he never landed a hit, never so much as touched him until the very end. Hiruma already knows. Dark Knight’s defense is practically impenetrable, his offense formidable. Yet, despite all that, and despite being beaten to a pulp, Sena can feel his excitement for the next time they fight. Hopefully for not a long while more, though.

Sena hopes that damn protein sample was worth it. He rests his head against the back of a seat, and only barely hears the others talking.

“He needs more training,” Tsuyumine says.

“And some new enhancements,” Hiruma says.

“More? He can only take so much,” Musashi adds.

“His shitty genetics are perfect for molding. Blank fucking slate. This is just the beginning.”

“Fine,” Tsuyumine says. “I’ll prep the lab, then.”

Sena frowns lightly, but soon enough his drowsiness gives way to deep sleep, and he hears no more.

He wakes up the next morning in his college apartment, tucked into bed.

(Which is weird, of course, since he definitely recalls Musashi driving them back to their base, and he hasn’t even debriefed.)

Also, it’s embarrassing on the premises that a) someone had to bathe him and b) change him seeing as he’s all nice and clean in pajamas, and c) they had to step inside his apartment. (He didn’t make it dirty, those stains were here before him. He has photographic evidence.)

The light from the blinds shines warmly onto his face, but he can’t bring himself to mind it. His body resists his attempts to cover his yes.

At first he thinks he’s paralyzed, which would make sense after the beat down he received. Rolling over to look at the time on his phone, he realizes it’s just his body’s way of protecting him from realizing how utterly and terribly sore he is. His eyes actually tear up with the pain. He squints at his phone. It’s eleven in the morning, Saturday. He has two messages from Suzuna that can wait for later.

Hiruma had been kind enough to schedule their misadventure during a three day weekend.

Sena sets an alarm for four more hours, then goes back to sleep.

(He wakes up later, no mention of the previous night anywhere on the news despite the media loving to gobble up any pieces of failures on part of heroes. He chooses not to question it, and goes down a rabbit hole of Dark Knight media consumption instead.)

. . .

Sena gulps. “Um, if you don’t mind me saying so, I think—I think he’s honestly a nice guy. He can cook, and he cares about his family a lot, and he’s driven and passionate, and strong, and – uh. There’s plenty of people who would—who would love to date him… _if_ things don’t work out between him and Koharu. So, yeah. I don’t think you should be worried.”

Suzuna lets out a breath, blowing her bangs up, and she looks so cute in that moment that Sena looks away. “He’s a goon but… he probably knows what he’s doing. I shouldn’t be worrying about his love life anyway when we still got, like, a billion chapters to read. Let’s crank out a few more hours before going to Doze. My treat.”

Suzuna resumes her typing which leaves Sena alone with his thoughts.

This isn’t the worst night, Sena’s got to admit. He’s still alive and largely unmaimed (psychological trauma notwithstanding), and he now knows what Dark Knight looks like.

The sibling resemblance is uncanny. The same dark blue hair, piercing blue eyes, stubborn jaw. Sena is far too aware that Suzuna is beautiful, but now he knows what Dark Knight looks like, too, and—

Dark Knight… is kind of good looking…

That thought has no business being in his brain when Seijuro is in a relationship (?) with the very lovely Koharu, and Sena’s first sets of quizzes are coming up, so he buries his nose back in his dog-eared textbook and drowns out any concerning views with an accompanying powerpoint printout about business ethics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow look at me. Told myself I would never write a love triangle so instead I wrote TWO love angles. I don't know why I do this. Koharu deserves better!!!
> 
> Also that action scene? Yeah, I rewrote it 4 times before I finally decided that I said what I said and I would not edit anymore SMFH.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to show you something."
> 
> "Oh no, I'm still recovering from the last time you said that."

It’s a little after eleven when they duck out of the cold rain and into Doze. The soft drizzle buzzes against the windows of the café, smears the city lights against the dark night. Suzuna makes true on her promise and goes to order while Sena finds them a table. It’s only a few students inside, so Sena takes their usual spot and gets cozy, burrowing into his thick sweater. The café has an easy, subdued atmosphere. It soothes him despite the turmoil that is his life.

Sure, he and his mortal enemy now know each other’s alter egos, but.

(Uh.)

Well. He hasn’t been taken out, yet, so that’s definitely good. And he’s still hanging out with Suzuna despite Dark Knight’s displeasure. Sena understands the logic behind Dark Knight’s disapproval, but Dark Knight can’t really prohibit Suzuna from hanging out with him; so, point to Sena.

Suzuna comes back, still smiling from something the pretty cashier said, holding a tray with pastries and two steaming mugs. She hands Sena his drink and slice of castella, takes a sip of her green tea, before giving Sena the Look.

“I want to show you something,” Suzuna says.

Sena eats a forkful of cake, squashing the uprooting those words do to his stomach. “Oh no, I’m still recovering from the last time you said that.”

“It wasn’t even that bad.”

“I was banned from every aquarium in Japan. For life.”

She slides her phone across the table, “Just _look_ ,” and Sena obediently does so.

Hollow ringing fills Sena’s ears. The cake tastes like sand as his mouth dries up. Among typical hero news (Antidote going abroad for a long-term mission; Dyadic reentering the field after an extended injury; Inari’s newest line of perfume) is a screenshot of an article from the local news. The headline talks about the fresh wave of rookie heroes rising in the ranks. It would all be fine and dandy if the photo the author had used wasn’t of Sena in between Dark Knight and Golden Era from the attempted bank robbery of a few days ago.

“Can I read the rest?” Sena asks quietly.

“That’s the thing. You can’t read it anywhere. I looked everywhere. This article was pulled before it was even an hour old.”

She swipes through three more screenshots. Each of them has some variation of Sena with Dark Knight and Golden Era. In two of the photos, they seem to be discussing what to do next as a group, innocuous enough. In the third one, Sena’s helmet is tilted up to look at Dark Knight, and he has one hand to his chest. Even with the opaque eye shield, Sena flushes with embarrassment looking at it. He appears to be entranced by Dark Knight in that photo.

Sena looks like everything the articles talk about: bold, young, out of his depth among the pros, but promising. Sena hadn’t even realized there had been a photographer on the scene.

“Any article that even alluded this hero,” Suzuna taps her finger at the Sena in the photos, “all gone. No trace. All those photos were taken by the same person, too. And guess what?”

Sena whispers, wetting his dry lips, “What?”

“They stopped posting on social media when the first article went live, and then all their stuff was deleted just a few hours later. No movement from this guy since.”

If Suzuna was less wrapped up in the unfolding mystery, she would have noticed how quiet Sena is.

Complete erasure from the internet to this extent would be almost impossible for the majority of highly-trained individuals. There’s only one person Sena knows that could do this.

“Maybe they were asked to take it down?”

“They were forced to take it down, just like those articles. Someone doesn’t want anyone seeing this, because of _him_ ,” she zooms in on Sena, the one where he’s star struck by Dark Knight. “And I know who’s behind this whole thing.”

“You… you do?!”

At the same time that Suzuna says: “It’s Hero HQ,” Sena blusters: “I can explain!”

“Wait,” Sena says. “What?”

“Explain what?” Suzuna asks.

“Hero HQ?” Sena lets out a breath of relief. “That’s who you think is behind this?”

“Uh, yeah. They’re trying to hide who this new sidekick or whatever is. What were you going to explain?”

Buying a little time, Sena finishes his cake. “Um, no, my idea was dumb. Why do you think it’s them?”

“I’m not one-hundred percent sure yet. Right now I’m thinking they’re trying to hide Dark Knight’s involvement with the red guy.”

“Involvement? Like?”

“Oh,” she zooms out of the same photo to frame Sena and Seijuro together. “They fuckin’.”

Chai spurts out of Sena’s nose and on to the table.

“Sena? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You shouldn’t have found out like this. This must be really tough for you.”

Sena chokes out a noise similar to, “ _What?_ ”, while trying to hack out the drink and wipe the table down.

“Honey. _Sena_. I know.”

Sena’s about to throw up a lung, but still asks weakly, “ _Know_?” He unscrews the cap from his water bottle and takes a few sips.

“You know,” Suzuna shimmies her shoulders, “that you’re thirsty for Dark Knight.”

Water sprays over the table as Sena chokes again.

“This is a safe place. You can tell me you like boring heroes. I don’t really get it, but hey.”

“He’s not boring!” Sena hisses, looking around wildly to make sure they’re not drawing any attention. Thankfully, any nearby patrons have headphones in.

“Agree to disagree. Anyway. The red guy and Dark Knight are totally fucking—”

“—what—”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s not the problem. The issue is that Dark Knight is at least late-twenties and his sidekick is, like, underage.”

“I—where are you getting this information?!”

“This is going to sound crazy, but stick with me.”

“Oh no.”

“You can’t really see the ID card that clearly in the pictures, but I did some digging. There’s a few high school programs that use similar photo ID’s to the one the red guy is wearing. It’s not an exact match, but really suspect. I mean the guy could be eighteen, yeah, but it’d still be really inappropriate since it’s the whole mentor-mentee thing and, like, abuse of power on Dark Knight’s part.”

“Dark Knight would never do that! He’s the Symbol of Honor! He’s a relic of a bygone era! He’s chivalrous!”

“You are such a fanboy.”

“He is Japan’s sweetheart,” Sena insists. To think Suzuna would unknowingly spout such wild accusations about her own brother.

“Inari is Japan’s sweetheart,” Suzuna says. “Dark Knight is cool and all, but no one’s perfect.”

“What about Inari?” Sena asks, knowing full well the love Suzuna holds for Nature’s Keeper.

“Except Inari,” Suzuna amends. “Do you have a better explanation for all this then?”

_I had to go undercover as a hero, you see, as I’m a villain, because the Captain, my boss, told me I had to in order to get close to your brother, who is Dark Knight by the way, for some overarching reason that no one will tell me about._

“I guess I don’t…” Sena switches tactics. “Ah, but I mean, they just _look_ like they like each other, but I bet it’s camera angles and photoshop, and you can’t even see their faces! How do you know what they’re feeling?”

Suzuna lets out a breath in dismissal. “A sex scandal cover-up just makes too much sense. It would ruin Dark Knight’s image and tank the Kingdom League Hero Agency, and that would also hurt Hero HQ by association. Why else would HQ go through all this trouble? I’m not messing around when I say this. But again, it’s just a theory,” she sips her drink. “And we’re gonna investigate. You’re gonna help me sneak into HQ.”

“Don’t you have that other story to write? The one from a few days ago?”

“I’m still going through all the footage, now are you in or what?”

Shriveling into his seat, Sena says, “I have my first midterm coming up soon.”

“When?”

“Two weeks.”

“Perfect, the fall intern fair is on Wednesday.”

“Oh,” Sena breathes, relieved hand to his chest, “I thought you meant try to sneak around the building—”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. The intern thing is just a cover,” she takes the final bite of her cheese Danish, savors her next words more than the pastry: “I’ve already registered us to attend.”

“How did you do that? You need a social security number to register. How do you know my social security number?”

She shrugs, “Memorized it.”

“I don’t even have it memorized. This is like the aquarium thing all over again,” Sena ruffles his hair and groans out, “But we don’t even have superpowers.”

“As if that would stop me. I signed us up for the intel department, duh.”

“No. _No_. I refuse,” Sena’s voice warbles. “I’m putting my foot down. I’m not going to do it.”

“Not even for,” Suzuna’s eyes flash dangerously, “a whole week of KBBQ lunches?”

“N-No…” Sena id down to his last can of spam, but he must remain strong.

“What about… a whole week of KBBQ lunches, _and_ I buy you groceries?”

Sena caves and hangs his head in shame, “Fine.”

“There, there,” Suzuna pats his shoulder with one finger. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“I’m weak.”

“I’m just strong,” Suzuna chirps. “You ready to leave?”

Sena nods, still distraught at how easily he succumbed to Suzuna’s superior negotiation techniques. Hiruma would be disappointed in him but not surprised.

There’s no point in trying to hide this future escapade from the Captain. Sena’s only option is omitting it until he inevitably gets caught. He really should get a frequent mischief punch card or something. Ten stamps and the Captain forgoes the death penalty.

After walking Suzuna back to her building from the metro, Sena heads to his apartment. Usually he would sprint back home under the cover of the night, but he takes the train back to campus. The platform is mostly empty, the carts even more deserted. He leans his head against one of the metal poles and stares at his worn shoes, soaked through with muddy rain water.

Sena’s unsure what to make of the photos. Hiruma is always playing several steps ahead, so the release and subsequent retraction could just all fall into some ploy of his that Sena can’t understand. Hiruma and Musashi had a four-hour long meeting regarding the helmet; Tsuyumine has been all but living in her lab ever since she got the hair sample. Deimon as a whole seems pleased with the results so far, but no one has mentioned the photos. Like usual, Sena hasn’t been told the central reasoning for their latest campaign.

He hopes it’s not a smear campaign. Suzuna can’t be the only one to draw the conclusion she did. Dark Knight doesn’t deserve something so underhanded.

The train pulls up to the campus station, and Sena exits. His breath puffs white into the dark night. The rain has turned into a sprinkling. It stings his face like tiny icicles as he walks to his apartment. When he blinks, he can make out Dark Knight’s face imprinted onto his lids, like the afterimage of a blinding light.

The brooding eyes, the stubborn chin, that family resemblance.

( _Dark Knight… is kind of good looking…_ )

Sena has known about Dark Knight since Dark Knight started his hero career. Now Sena knows about Seijuro. First name basis.

Sena has been spear tackled and punted through walls, but his breath has never quite been taken away like when Suzuna opened the door and inside was Dark Knight. He looked deceptively disarming and approachable in ratty, home-use-only sweatpants, looking like any other sibling.

Not informing Hiruma is treason. Sena has Dark Knight’s life in his hands: name, address, contact information, and two loved ones. Having a family is a weakness many can’t afford in their field of work. It’s why Musashi’s father is dead, why Tsuyumine decided to erase all her memories of Rui. For someone like Hiruma, family is a tool used to slice through a victim’s throat.

Sena shakes his head as he unlocks his front door and steps inside, hanging up his coat. The orange streetlights filter through his blinds, empty except for his lumpy mattress in the corner of the room.

The kitchen light flickers when he flips it on, scavenging his paltry kitchen for food. He’s almost constantly eating to keep up with his superpower’s metabolic rate. He eats the last of his fried spam and scoops up scrambled eggs with stale crackers.

Nothing compared to Seijuro’s cooking, he thinks while scrubbing his only plate, but that goes without saying.

There’s still a few hours before he needs to sleep, and frankly he doesn’t think he’ll be able to, so Sena takes his laptop and notebook to the closet (the only damn place he gets wifi), intent on studying for his quiz. He opens the door.

“Don’t scream,” Dark Knight whispers. Seijuro clasps his hand around Sena’s mouth before he can open it. “I’m going to let go. When I do, do not scream,” Seijuro repeats, barely audible.

Sena nods, eyes wide. Dark Knight could be wearing his combat suit underneath his sweats, but Sena’s not prepared to fight. He doesn’t have his carbon bodysuit and doesn’t like the thought of having to take Dark Knight’s hits without it.

Seijuro holds his hands up slowly, like Sena’s a skittish animal. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he says. “But I will if I have to.”

Sena can’t find his voice. He’s frozen in place, clutching his laptop to his chest. His heart is a rabbit pulse. Blood rushes in his ears. He hadn’t even noticed something was amiss in his own home.

(How long has Seijuro been here? What has he seen? What did he think?)

Seijuro pulls out three miniature cameras from his pocket. Musashi’s design style is instantly recognizable.

It’s a punch to Sena’s gut. For some reason, it had never occurred to him that Hiruma would keep tabs on him.

“I jammed the signal,” Seijuro’s voice is like gravel, “but there is only one way to ensure nothing gets out.”

“Are you…? Did HQ send you? To… kill me?” Sena has never felt as small as he does now with Seijuro towering over him. His legs are rooted to the ground under Seijuro’s piercing stare. Sena never seriously entertained the idea that Dark Knight would actually kill him one day, but Sena has been wrong plenty of times.

“I just said I wouldn’t hurt you,” Dark Knight has the gal to sound annoyed.

Sena shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Blinks once, then twice. “Um. Sorry. I’m just, uh. I’m having trouble, of like, thinking of another reason?” Sena drums his fingers against his laptop. “Like, _any_ other reason for you… to be here…?”

(Dark Knight visiting him.)

Seijuro pinches the bridge of his nose. “We know too much about each other. It is not safe for either of us. You are a wanted criminal, a suspect in several cases, and a person of interest in even more. Reason dictates that I turn you in.”

“S-So, you _are_ here to…”

“Against my better judgement,” Seijuro cuts in, “I’ve decided not to pursue the matter.”

“Not… to pursue…?” Sena asks dumbly.

“I will keep your secret, if you keep mine.”

“Ah.” Sena uses every ounce of brain power to try and understand what is actually happening, so he defaults to his natural state. He wobbles to his kitchenette and puts his laptop on the counter. “Can I offer you something to drink?” Sena asks, voice hollow.

“Sure,” Seijuro says. He looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he just thanks Sena when he takes the drink, lets Sena process, and sets the cup aside when he’s done.

Sena fills up his water bottle from the tap and takes a drink himself. He’s still dazed. He frets with the bottle’s cap. After a moment, he says, “I don’t know how long I could keep it from the Captain. He just has this way of knowing everything.”

“I took precautions coming here. I realize the gravity of what I’m asking you to do.”

Seijuro is honest in a no-nonsense way. He embodies everything a hero should. Fights for justice. Supports his sister. He wouldn’t lie. Would he lie?

Sena rubs his fingers through his hair and leans against the chipped kitchen counter as his knees tremble. “Yeah. It’s – it’s still sinking in.” His stomach lurches. “I need to sit down.”

The short walk to his bed feels like wading through wet sand. He half-expects to sink through his mattress when he sits down. His mind is still drawing a blank. He must have heard wrong. His mind likes to mess with him sometimes, especially when he’s feverish. His forehead sure feels feverish when he rests a cold hand against it. This must be a trick.

No matter how much Sena wants to believe Seijuro would even think about following through on such a deal, it’s too good to be true. It’s too easy.

It’s mutually assured destruction if Dark Knight’s identity is revealed since it would out Sena as well. He would lose Suzuna, but that is more than enough for Sena to tread with careful steps. She could never forgive him. Sena wouldn’t blame her.

The mattress dips as Seijuro sits next to Sena, and Sena snaps out his thoughts. The streetlight shines through the blinds and bathes Seijuro in its orange glow. Sena fights the urge to shrink into himself when he meets Seijuro’s gaze. It’s like looking up at the night sky and seeing one of the stars slow its orbit to regard him in turn.

“What would happen,” Sena starts, carefully. The tips of his fingers feel numb even as he rubs them together. Sena can smell Seijuro’s scent and the sweetness of what must be Koharu’s perfume underneath. Its strength makes Sena frown. “What would happen if Hero HQ found out? That you knew about… Devilbat? That you didn’t do anything about it?”

Sena’s not saying ‘yes’.

(Not yet.)

(There’s no need to ask what would happen to Sena if the Captain finds out.)

“My position would be terminated immediately,” Seijuro’s response is prompt enough to suggest just how much he’s thought about it before coming here. “They would freeze my accounts. They might try to keep it from the public depending on what would be less damaging to HQ’s image. I would be tried in court for aiding a terrorist organization. I would be found guilty.”

“That’s not—we’re not a—” There’s no mask to hide Seijuro’s disapproval as it lays bare for Sena to experience raw. His heart thumps painfully. “It’s just my job,” Sena says. It sounds like a plea. “I don’t—I’m not evil.”

Seijuro’s jaw is clenched tight. “I did not come here to discuss the ethics of your job,” Seijuro says in a measured, even tone. It almost sounds like a reminder. “There’s no point in arguing about what you do. You put Suzuna in danger by simply being near her. You are a danger to society.”

The space between them burns. Sena rubs his arms, feeling cold and hot at once. “Then wouldn’t it be easier for you to just…?”

( _Did HQ send you? To…_ )

It’s what the Captain would do. It’s what the Captain has done.

Seijuro looks straight ahead at the cracked drywall. “I considered it.”

Sena puts his head between his knees as the room spins. Seijuro doesn’t move to help. Sena doesn’t expect him to. Bile rises in Sena’s mouth. He tells himself not to cry.

“What changed your mind?” Sena asks, voice feeble. If he spoke any louder he would throw up. He might throw up, still. Sena rests his sweaty temple against his knees.

There’s no hidden motive in Seijuro’s face no matter how much Sena openly searches. There’s familial worry. There’s reluctant acceptance.

“I’m not a murderer,” Seijuro says. “I can’t betray what I stand for.”

(Dark Knight has been the number one ranked hero hundreds of times since he started his superhero career. Other heroes use Dark Knight as a beacon to measure themselves against. He’s a luminary in his field. Sena has followed his meteoritic rise since the beginning.)

“I promise I will keep your identity safe,” Seijuro says. He’s stopped his celestial movement to consider Sena as an equal.

“W-Why?” Sena asks, dumbfounded.

“For Suzuna.” After a beat, Seijuro adds, “For anyone involved in our lives.”

Sena’s mind circles back to needing to tell Hiruma. Would Hiruma try to help instead of twisting it in his favor? Seijuro doesn’t deserve– Sena shouldn’t even think like that. He owes Hiruma his life; he doesn’t owe Seijuro anything. Sena and Seijuro have a—professional relationship. Nothing more. Nothing to justify keeping such a secret.

Seijuro knew that and decided to come ask him anyway.

It’s too much to ask for. Sena can’t do it. He won’t.

(But Suzuna. But _Dark Knight_. Dark Knight who is amazing in strength and character, and would risk everything to keep Suzuna safe.)

Finally, Sena says with a dry mouth, “Okay.”

Sena and Seijuro sit next to each other with only the light rain filling the silence. Strangers and adversaries with one heavy secret between them.

Seijuro murmurs a distant, “Thank you.”

“What happens now?” Sena asks, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Nothing. You continue to be my greatest enemy.” The lights flicker with another flash of lightening as the storm worsens. Seijuro pulls himself up, a small frown tugging at his lips.

(There’s an inevitability between them that is now urgent and apparent. In Seijuro’s eyes, Suzuna will only be safe when Sena is in the hands of Hero HQ. It won’t matter if Sena knows Dark Knight’s identity then, it wouldn’t break their promise, and who would even believe Devilbat if he said Dark Knight offered to compromise on their identities?)

Seijuro offers a hand to Sena. Despite everything, Sena takes it without hesitation.

(Sena’s reminded of before, with Suzuna. But Seijuro’s hair is darker, and his eyes are a deeper blue, and overall Seijuro is harsher: angled planes, muscular physique, voice like water rushing over boulders. It’s different. Something flutters in Sena’s stomach anyway.)

Sena’s finding it hard to focus now that the reality of the situation is catching up to him. He slides his palm from Seijuro’s as soon as he’s up and holds it against his chest.

“I need to go,” Seijuro says.

“R-Right,” Sena says. He wants to ask more questions, but Seijuro is distant. Sena’s beginning to understand what Koharu meant. “Um. I’ll see you out.”

Seijuro nods tersely. Once at the door, Seijuro hesitates for a brief moment. “You’re in the school directory. You should,” Seijuro pauses, “be careful. Of those sorts of things.”

“R-Right,” Sena says, nodding. “Thank you. For coming here and… offering.”

He and Seijuro share a tense moment, not sure what to expect of the other, before Seijuro finally steps out. Sena closes the door quietly.

Sena stumbles into the bathroom and throws up until he’s dry heaving. His body is a wreck of nerves, his teeth clatter against each other when he brushes them with trembling hands. His reflection is mess. He tell himself not to cry.

Sena turns on the shower as hot as the old pipes will allow. He stands under the hot water until the bone-deep cold subsides. He slips into sweats and chugs the rest of his water before refilling his water bottle. His mind is fuzzy when he falls into bed, and he’s intent on keeping it that way when his pillow crumples underneath his head. He jolts back up.

Sena’s whole body flushes with heat and dread as he realizes that his most prized possession is missing. Yet another thing he hadn’t even noticed due to Seijuro’s commanding presence.

It’s not _missing_ missing, but it’s not next to his bed where he keeps it, and he has a bad feeling he knows where it is. Sena swallows before lifting his pillow. It’s a mixture of relief and horror when he sees it.

Dark Knight’s autograph.

Which means that, in the middle of breaking and entering into Sena’s apartment, Seijuro had seen the autograph and just— _hid it_.

What had he thought? Did he remember signing it? He didn’t bring it up. Maybe he didn’t care. He’s probably run into enough people with his autograph to not make note of it. But why had he hidden it?

Sena places the autograph back in its rightful place before groaning into his pillow.

. . .

Any memories Sena has before joining Deimon are fuzzy at best. Sena barely remembers his parents. He can’t recall what they look like. He only remembers them in flashing suggestions of emotions and vague shapes.

What Sena remembers clearly is following Dark Knight’s stories during the evening news and poring over newspapers to find any mention of his favorite hero.

He remembers walking home one afternoon, a day like any other. He had looked up to some unknown signal, and there was Dark Knight in his neighborhood. This was when Dark Knight had still just been a sidekick, but Sena was awe struck anyway. He went up to Dark Knight, clutching a pen and whatever paper he had managed to grab first from his backpack. The sun was blinding. It obscured Dark Knight’s figure in shadow and shown like a halo around him. Sena had asked for an autograph in a voice more confident sounding than he felt. Dark Knight had signed his name, and went back to his patrol, just another day.

Sena had clutched the autographed paper to his chest, stood there looking at Dark Knight’s retreating figure, and never let go.

. . .

The cameras are back in their hidden places, prying eyes in the dark.

Sena tries to sleep but can’t stop pesky thoughts from entering his mind despite how exhausted he is. Tomorrow he needs to find the film footage to make sure everything was cut. It’s not that he distrusts Seijuro, but Sena knows better than to underestimate the Captain. The thing is, Sena doesn’t have the tools necessary, or the knowledge, and he definitely doesn’t have the confidence to attempt blatant insubordination, but he already has a streak going with accepting Seijuro’s proposition, so he’ll find a way.

(For Dark Knight’s sake.)

(For Seijuro _._ )

That’s a dangerous train of thought. Sena politely asks the conductor to stop it, and focus on the plan he’s writing on a spare sticky note. Penciled in among buying more school supplies and reminding himself of a meeting with his academic advisor, is Sena’s plan of sneaking into Hiruma’s office (which includes first finding his office), deleting the archived footage (somehow), and pretending that nothing is wrong (as usual).

It’s a lot to ask, but Sena resigns himself to figuring it out.

(For _Dark Knight_.)

He’s restless in bed as a half-formed feeling tries growing into a full-fledge realization.

He can appreciate Dark Knight’s tenacity and hard work, but that’s just Sena’s opinion of Dark Knight as a fellow professional. Since when does admiring a coworker mean anything more than that? He can also appreciate Dark Knight’s physical being. That’s just Sena’s opinion as someone who has eyes. It doesn’t mean anything.

Not to mention that Dark Knight is dating Koharu (maybe? Sena’s not sure what is happening with those two), who is altogether too hard to dislike. Sena’s actually _so_ happy for them. Even though he had no clue that Dark Knight even had a girlfriend. Correction: Dark Knight has had a girlfriend _for the better part of a year_. Really, it’s not that big of a deal. Sena just wants to put that out there. He doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about it.

Besides, he likes Suzuna. Not her brother. Who happens to be Dark Knight, who Suzuna thinks he has a thing for?

 _It’s just an endless circle_ , Sena thinks. He tosses the covers over his head. Out of spite, he accepts the situation as resolved. Whatever. He convinces himself that he can function on two hours of sleep when he sets his alarm, and finally goes to bed.

He dreams confusing blurs that he forgets immediately, only remembering how each one is tinged with a deep anxiety. His alarm is a welcome relief.

When he wakes up, his pillow is damp, as if he had cried in his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, shouting into a microphone: SENA HE BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE, NONE OF THIS IS OKAY
> 
> The middle of this chapter took maybe a whole week to edit. I can't believe Shin talked that much but it just felt appropriate, considering how Suzuna is the only support he has left. I tried to touch on some more serious topics/repercussions of what villains/heroes could go through irl. Which is difficult since this is all in my head. At this point I've been re-reading the same scenes so long I've gone cross-eyed, but I did try to base it off of the *spirit* of ShinSena moments in the manga. The end of chapter is a little rushed but jfc when I tell you I'm tired!!! Expect a few more edits to this chap/fic through the coming weeks.
> 
> Lastly, I hesitantly expect to update next month if everything goes according to plan!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calling in sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said chap 3 was the worst chapter to write? Well, chapter 4 was actually the worst chapter to write! Funny how that happens! I'm trying to keep my schedule going, but this one was a slog to get through. I'm still very unhappy with it - I hate the feeling that nothing happened, but I am trying to set things up. Also, apologies for this being shorter than the others, but I felt like the length was good.
> 
> Also, yes, I will be editing this later on LOL

Sena has barely enough cognitive function when he wakes up to realize two things.

One: he is very, very sick. Two: he needs to call Hiruma.

(He’s not sure which one is worse.)

His head aches (from the buildup of pressure behind his eyes and nose and ears) (but also at the thought of calling Hiruma). Like most sane people, Sena hates talking on the phone. Talking on the phone with the Captain only makes everything worse.

Still, even that might not be as bad as how he feels currently.

Everything feels muted, and his vision lags a few frames behind where he’s actually looking, which is disorienting and frightening in its own right. He’s left a wet imprint of his body on his sheets from sweat. His mirror image looks awful when he steps into the bathroom – sweaty forehead, red face, deep bags under his eyes. He takes a shower to ease how gross he feels, but his mind is so fuzzy he almost slips and falls in the shower.

Sena layers up and puts on a beanie, his movements like that of a bumbling toddler. After a few moments struggling with the zipper on a pair of jeans, he opts for sweatpants. He’s still shivering even underneath everything. A trembling puffball.

His bed – even with the disgusting sweat outline – looks really tempting. His warm blankets and memory foam pillow. It would be so easy to just burrow underneath his covers and sleep forever.

Through the haze of fever, Sena remembers that he needs to _erase that footage_. And then he can sleep.

Sena’s self-preservation kicks in. He takes a steadying breath and actually murmurs a quick prayer out into the universe. He was made _explicitly_ _aware_ that the number is for _emergencies_ _only_. He had only used it once before – he’d been cornered by Antidote and was bleeding out – and sure, maybe he doesn’t have Antidote’s poison coursing through his veins, paralyzing him, and yeah, Antidote isn’t about to remove his helmet and find out his secret identity, and okay, he still has all of his blood but.

Sena blinks. He’s in bed, under his comforter again. How did that happen? Something about a call? Oh, right. Work. Maybe he shouldn’t call. Then again, if he no-shows, no-calls he might actually be skinned alive.

Okay, he’s calling, and that’s that.

Sena squints. He’s been trying to dial Hiruma’s number on a calculator.

A few minutes later, Sena finds his phone buried in his covers. He dials Hiruma.

“What?” Hiruma barks from the other end of the line.

Sena winces as he clears his sore throat. “C-Captain? Um, it’s me, ummm… Devilbat…”

“Yes I know who this is, you imbecile. What do you want?” A few dull cracks sound from the other end of the line. It takes Sena’s feverish brain a moment to register the noise as gunfire.

“Um.” Sena gulps painfully. “Eh – R-Right, so, um, I’m sick—”

“You and your goddam immune system.” There’s another gunshot and then whimpering. Someone else is whimpering. The Captain is shooting at other people, and they are whimpering.

“Stop fucking mutter.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Sena squeaks. “I was just c-calling to say that, ah, I’ll be coming in to go. Umm, early, I mean, I’m coming in early but only for a little bit, so I just wanted, I wanted to let you know. In case. You needed something?”

“This line is for emergencies. I don’t have the time to hear your ramblings.” A loud explosion followed closely by Hiruma’s dark chuckle.

“I – I didn’t want to leave you shorthanded on such late notice and—” Sena can’t help his panic and works himself into a wet coughing fit.

“Fine, get to medical for fuck’s sake,” Hiruma says and hangs up.

Sena stares at his phone. The numbers swim. Sena gets out of bed again, and knocks back four pain killers. His headache is mostly unrelated to the phone call. Mostly. All things considered, Sena thinks it went rather well.

His eye lands on Dark Knight’s autograph laying innocently next to his mattress before he heads out. A swell of shame washes through Sena as he looks at it. Bringing up Dark Knight to Hiruma never even crossed his mind.

Sena wonders if Seijuro had seen the autograph and remembered a tender moment between a child and his hero.

Sena shakes his head, trying to clear away the thought. If Seijuro remembers or not doesn’t matter.

Dark Knight had seen the autograph displayed and hidden it; Sena had seen it hidden and displayed it. They don’t think the same.

Sena hurriedly chalks up his mental ramblings to his fever. He is sick after all. Of course he’s not thinking straight.

There’s one entrance to the underground tunnels on campus that Sena specifically requested. It’s by the old social science building, next to the dumpsters. It’s always empty and partially hidden by trees. It’s the easiest thing to slip into the tunnels, thought he usually smells a little like garbage after. Sena shivers as he walks through the dark passages, using his phone’s flashlight to light the way. He knows how to get to their hideout relatively easily. Sena’s familiar with most of the layout, though there are some parts he just hasn’t gone to because his campaigns have never taken him there. Still, his fever and headache are doing weirds things to his memory, making his vision swim.

His phone rings and Sena jumps at the sudden sound. It’s Suzuna trying to facetime him.

“Hey,” Sena says, answering. Suzuna’s smiling face fills up the screen.

“Hey –” She’s surrounded by food, grocery shopping. “Uh, where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You look pretty sick. Why is it so dark?”

“Oh, that’s, ah – it’s just, ah – ummm… the lighting?”

“Do you need help? Send me your location, I’ll be over in a little bit.”

“Oh, no, no, no, I’m fine, really, I just, ah… have a cold?”

“Why are you in a near pitch-black room?”

“I have my flashlight on.”

“That’s not answering my question – never mind. Did you see my text?”

“Uh…” Sena comes to a four-way intersection and pauses. He needs to take a right. Maybe.

“I thought so, otherwise you would have freaked out.”

“Uh oh.” Or was it left? Sena moves out of frame from his camera and activates his foresight.

Pulsing pain floods behind his eyes and streaks across his temples. He gasps and fumbles his phone.

“Woah, where’d you go?” Suzuna’s asks. “Sena? You there?”

 _That’s_ new. Sena’s been sick before and still used his powers but it’s never _hurt_ him. He’s only felt that when he’s used his foresight for too long consecutively.

“Y-Yeah, I just – almost dropped my phone.” He actually needs to go _left_ , so it was worth double checking. “What were you saying?”

“Right, so, like I sent you a link – I’m getting your groceries by the way, do you like tuna? You need more protein.”

“Mm, yeah that’s fine.”

“Cool.” Suzuna dumps seven cans into the cart. “So the link is to this superpower forum. It’s called Unmasked. Have you used it?”

It’s where Sena spends most of his free time at home, scrolling through posts and trying to derail conspiracy theories that hit a little too close to the truth, thought thankfully those are few and far between. “N-No, I haven’t heard of it.”

“I think you would like it a lot. You remember what I told you about Dark Knight possibly fucking a minor?”

“Suzuna! He’s _not_ , he – you said that really loud!” Did he hear correctly?

“I said ‘possibly’, and, listen.” (Sena _did_ hear correctly, then, god.) “There’s this one post on there, I sent you a link to it; it got over _five_ _hundred_ comments in seven hours. Most posts get like _fifty_.”

“And it’s – I’m guessing it’s about the bank heist.” Sena ducks out of frame again and braces himself at another intersection. He’s having a hard time thinking straight. It almost feels like new additions have been built overnight.

He uses his power just for a flash, not even long enough to truly see the future but to just get a feeling of it. To the left he feels something like _disappointment_ which he attributes to a wrong turn but to the right it’s more of a _keep going_. The pain is more manageable now, a dull flare up along his temples. He chokes down a grimace.

“Yup,” Suzuna says, shrewdly looking at canned vegetables for the best price. “It has screenshots of articles that even I didn’t get to see and photos, and it lists all the facts.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll look at it.” Sena has to do some damage control. It’s his fault that Dark Knight is even getting snared into something so heinous. He’s surprised he didn’t see it first, but last night was a busy night for him. “But Dark Knight is a good hero. He wouldn’t – you know he would _never_ – I just don’t believe it,” Sena mutters.

Suzuna makes him choose between two packages of rice. Sena shrugs, so Suzuna takes both.

“You’re gonna have to read through it because there’s just so much more to this. It’s not just about Dark Knight or heroes either. There’s all these supposed connections with companies and money being swapped. They sound kinda crazy to me, especially because there’s no proof.”

“If there’s no proof then why even talk about it?” Sena wipes cold sweat from his forehead.

“There’s no proof _yet_.” Suzuna is serious, murmuring into her headphones. “I don’t think Dark Knight would do it. But – well, I’m going to be honest. It is pretty sparse, but what _is_ there looks bad for Hero HQ.”

“Ah, right, right.” Sena’s at the last split in his path. It’s a three way intersection. He can go straight or take a right. Both halls are dark, though there’s a draft coming from the right. Again he’s pretty sure in the direction he needs to head – straight ahead this time for about half a mile – but he doesn’t want to spend even one second longer down here than he absolutely has to in case he’s wrong. The sooner he gets to work the sooner he can get home. All the halls look so similar. He decides to check, just in case.

“I’m about to finish shopping in the next hour,” Suzuna says. “Do you want me to drop these off at your place? Or you could come pick them up from mine.”

Sena braces for the pain, but this time it’s worse than the first time, much worse than any other time. He feels a branding iron sear through his skull in white agony. His stomach churns, bile rises in his mouth, and his knees give. But there’s something worse. Straight ahead is another feeling of _correct,_ but to the right it’s

**d̷̉͌̂̂͌̒͑͜O̶̳͚͗ ̸͚̙̜͖̜͔͋̒́̔͆͆͆͘N̴̨̬̜̏͌̅̓̊̌͗͘ͅO̷̡̨͓̳̮̤̜͎̲͖͉͌͠t̷͉̘͇͓͎͛͜ͅͅ ̵͔̪̩͉͙̘̻͑͆̓̚͜En̴̤̫͑͒͒̽̇͂͊̓͝T̵̢̤̠͔̺̗̮̘̂̄͋͑̒͆͠E̷͔͕̩̲̰̦̼͂̽̇̋̽̈́̌͠͝͠R̸͙̺̹̗̝̯͉̞̳̋̆**

“Sena? Sena! Are you okay?”

“N-No, I can – sorry I just, I just tripped.” Sena stares down the hall to his right. Unassuming, dark. It looks like all the other hallways he’s walked down. He’s been down that hall before – he’s _had_ to, it’s so close to one of side entrances afterall – but he can’t quite remember when or what would even cause such a strong reaction from him. He clears his sore throat. “Um, I can pick them up, if you don’t mind. I am a little sick.”

Suzuna would win in an argument about anything else in the world against Sena except for this topic. “I don’t mind. My brother’s kinda sick too, so I’ll probably end up getting it anyway. Oh my god, did I even tell you what my brother told me?”

“Oh, what did he say?” Sena tries keeping his voice composed. Logically he knows Seijuro wouldn’t back out of his word.

“He can be so rude sometimes. He literally said we shouldn’t hang out. I swear I think it’s just because you’re a guy.”

“I suppose he’s just worried about you.” Sena passes by the hallway’s entrance, pausing briefly to listen close, but he hears nothing. The draft picks up and for a moment Sena swears he can smell – something moist and breaking, like simmering decay – but it’s gone just as quickly, whatever it was. He picks up his pace.

“It’s such a disservice to you!” Suzuna sounds exasperated. “And it’s like he doesn’t trust my judgement. But whatever. He’ll get around to liking you soon enough. I told you he’s a goon.”

“A goon,” Sena agrees absentmindedly. “Hey, I’m heading into work soon. Um, I have to go.”

“Alright, just drop by after you’re done. I should be here.”

They say their goodbyes and hang up.

Sena finally reaches the side entrance. The feeling of safety sinks into him and his knees almost buckle at the feeling of relief. His legs are shaking. Maybe he should have stayed home. Why was he here anyway?

(the tapes)

Oh, right.

He scans himself into the lair. He’s already exhausted, sweating heavily. Before he tries anything, he needs to compose himself.

Musashi is in the breakroom when Sena walks in.

“You look terrible,” Musashi says, stirring creamer into his coffee. Out of the four of them, Sena is the only one that gets sick. Tsuyumine and Musashi both have altered immune systems, and Hiruma simply isn’t human and can’t be bothered by a mortal weakness. “What are you even doing here?”

“Hi,” Sena croaks. He pours some hot water into a Styrofoam cup. “I just need to finish some stuff up, and then I’m heading home.”

“You’re going to visit Tsuyumine, right?” Musashi asks sternly.

“Tsuyumine is…” the embodiment of every evil doctor little children envision at clinics. “Ah… no, no, I feel fine.” Sena sneezes five times in a row into his elbow. The chilly tunnels must have aggravated his condition.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Musashi’s incredulous glare turns disapproving.

“Oh, yes, I make tea all the time.” Sena is confident in this one ability.

Musashi grunts. “Not that. Come with me. I want to show you something.”

“Oh,” Sena can only manage an owlish blink instead of his usual panic. That’s how much his illness has sapped him. He already feels drained.

They walk out of the break room and head for Musashi’s office.

“I’m not allowed in there,” Sena mumbles. Sena, despite his novel grace as a fighter and ability to see the future, is also clumsy. Hiruma and Tsuyumine haven’t quite been able to figure out how to remove that from his genome, but not from lack of trying. He’s been banned from entering sensitive rooms after the coffee incident (which was over five months ago).

“Just get in here.”

Sena flutters in, swallowing painfully. He stands near the wall while Musashi sits down at the command desk. The tabletop is made of control buttons, some blinking, some not. Every wall is covered in screens. They flicker through various areas of surveillance. Musashi types something, and a few clicks later, Sena’s dorm pops up on the screens as one giant patchwork.

It’s the stream from last night, sped up a few times over. A clock ticks away on a bottom left screen, showing the time the video was recorded. Sena enters his apartment and walks into the kitchen. He eats, goes into the bathroom, comes out freshly showered, and goes to bed. His sleep is fitful.

Musashi turns around to face Sena.

“You found the cameras,” Musashi says.

“Ah… Yeah,” Sena says and rubs at the side of his sweaty neck. His heartbeat, which has been quick this entire time, picks up even more.

“You should be more upset than that.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sena waves a hand tiredly. He blinks quickly. There’s… more than one Musashi until Sena really focuses again. He should have eaten something before coming here. “It makes sense and all. Keeping tabs on people. It’s all very on brand.”

“You were always good at rationalizing things. But anyway. Did you see that?” Musashi asks once he turns to face the screens again.

“No?”

“Look again.” Musashi rewinds the footage.

Sena enters his apartment. Goes to the kitchen. Eats. Gets ready for bed. Goes to sleep.

Wait. Sena’s mind whirls into action as he tries to really see what he’s watching. At last, it clicks.

The footage is spliced together almost perfectly.

“ _This_ is what I saw when I was reviewing it,” Musashi says. “Now you see it.” A few clicks later and the footage has been rewound again, but this time when it plays forward, the cut is obvious. Musashi then changes the footage again, back to the almost flawless edit. Even the time has been edited to make up for the bit that was lost. “Now you don’t.”

Sena’s breath is caught in his throat when Musashi turns to look at him again, arms crossed. Did Musashi…? Who else would have…?

“What are you up to?” Musashi asks.

“Um, n-nothing?” Sena drops his gaze under Musashi’s scrutiny.

The silence lasts a long, heavy beat. Sena stares at his shoes, Musashi stares at Sena.

“None of my business,” Musashi says slowly. “But just know that if you go against Hiruma, you lose. I don’t have that fancy ability you do, but even I can tell.”

“W-What? Wait, were you– did you…?”

“Go bother Tsuyumine. I have emails to send.”

Sena swallows. “Emails?”

“None that concern you. Out you go. Go get some cold and flu medicine from Doc. You look dead on your feet. Here.”

Musashi all but shoves a mug of oatmeal at Sena. Where did that come from? Sena trips out of the room, gapes at the oatmeal in his hands and then at the door. Musashi’s muffled voice tells him to get his butt to Tsuyumine before Musashi takes matters into his own hands.

Sena takes his tea and newly acquired oatmeal with him to see Tsuyumine. He’s still—processing.

“What is it?” Tsuyumine says, peering into a UV-chamber. She turns to him, before rolling her eyes. “Ugh, don’t tell me. Some sort of virus. I told Hiruma to up your immune system but no. He wanted to give you a shorter sleep cycle. Well, look at you now.”

“Sorry,” Sena says into his tea.

“You should be resting at home.” Tsuyumine’s glare pierces through him. “Looks like a typical viral illness. You been under stress? Your muscles are tensed as all hell.”

“Ah, just the usual. Exams coming up.” Sena can’t taste any of the oatmeal due to his sinuses, but he eats it gratefully anyway.

Tsuyumine goes through the trouble of getting Sena’s height (a judgmental “Hmm…”), weight (“I told you to _gain_ weight not _lose_ it you gremlin.”), blood pressure (“High”), heart rate (“High”), and respiratory rate (“High”).

Tsuyumine rubs at her eyes before scribbling something on an illicit prescription note, “This should be more than enough.”

“Thank you.”

She’s still observing him with critical eyes. “What happened? You looked fine last night when we talked.”

“I think it happened when I walked home in the rain.” Sena sips his drink. He’s already feeling a little better, warmer. Really warm. Maybe too warm.

“That’s not how that works.”

Sena blinks, slow and sluggish. There are four Tsuyumine’s in front of him. He has never been more intimidated in his life.

“… got it?” Tsuyumine asks.

“How… how many of you are there?” Sena asks Tsuyumine number three. His vision is going patchy around the edges.

“Aw, shit,” Tsuyumine says.

The last thing Sena sees before black takes his vision is Tsuyumine disapproving face as she catches him before he can crash onto the ground.

. . .

“Sleeping beauty’s awake,” Musashi’s voice grumbles somewhere in the room.

Sena blinks blearily. He stirs from the hospital bed he’s been placed on. He has an IV attached to him and a heart monitor but nothing else. Musashi is thumbing through a construction magazine. Tsuyumine enters. Looking annoyed as usual.

“S—”

“You better not apologize,” she says. She has her wooden sword at her waist. “I’ll give you something to apologize for if you do.”

“That doesn’t make sense Tsuyumine,” Musashi says, still looking at the magazine.

Tsuyumine ignores Musashi.

“Thank you,” Sena says. “What time is it?”

“It’s about to be two in the afternoon,” Tsuyumine says.

“Two?!” Sena left his apartment at eight in the morning. He is going to murder his traitorous immune system.

“Relax, you only passed out for a few minutes. You slept for the rest of the time.”

“Oh. Wait I had a meeting at one!”

“Stop being a nuisance,” Tsuyumine chops her hand down at the top of Sena’s head. “Your Dark Knight can’t take you down, but you let some punk-ass RNA thrash you like this.”

“I… I don’t think this was my fault?” Sena stutters.

Musashi speaks up, then, “You were severely dehydrated and underfed. That’s how the cold slapped you around.”

“Please stop painting such an image,” Sena says.

“Whatever,” Tsuyumine says. She takes him off the IV and performs some last checks on him. “I gave you some fluids and medicine. You should eat solid food as soon as you can. I’m also running some blood tests.” She scans his body quickly. “You _look_ better at least.”

“You _do_ have food at home?” Musashi asks.

Sena can feel his face grow hot. The heart monitor picks up. “Eh, well, yes, I mean. Suzuna got me some groceries.”

“How cute,” Tsuyumine snickers. Even Musashi cracks a smile.

“It—it’s not like that,” Sena insists. He gets up. He does feel better. The aches are lessened, there’s no headache, no stuffy nose, only a mild itch in his throat.

“Any other concerns?”

He considers telling Tsuyumine about what happened in the tunnels – the overwhelming pain, the slight change in his foresight (he’s never quite used it like that), that foreboding feeling of dread, but – instead he keeps it to himself. A little voice in his head warns him not to tell.

(Which is ridiculous and stupid because Tsuyumine is his doctor but)

( _Sometimes Sena forgets how cold Tsuyumine is_ )

“Just the cold,” Sena says, giving a watery smile.

“Good. Now get home and get some fucking rest.”

Sena scurries out of the room. He hesitates at the tunnel’s side entrance, the same one he used to come in. Instead, he puts on a facemask and takes the metro to Suzuna’s place.

. . .

“You didn’t tell him you took some blood samples.”

“Doctor patient confidentiality. I can’t tell you shit.”

“That’s a good one. You’re the worst doctor I’ve ever seen.”

“Are you concerned for him?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“We’re on the same page, then. Hiruma wanted some samples. A backup.”

“Hm. I see. Onwards, I guess.”

“Progress is progress.”

. . .

Sena’s not prepared to run into Seijuro, but he supposes he should have expected as much when he knocked on the Shin residence. Sena goes through twenty different conversations he wants to say to Seijuro after their talk last night,

(Do you regret it? What did you think? What are you telling Suzuna? Did Suzuna tell you about the forum? Do you know what they’re saying about you? What they’re saying about us? Did you see the autograph? What did you think? Do you remember? Please say you remember, it’s the only thing I remember.)

but Seijuro speaks before Sena can voice any of them. (Which is for the best.)

“Suzuna’s not here,” Seijuro says. His voice has an extra rasp to it. His nose is red and his eyes are slightly puffy. His cheeks are lightly flushed.

“Oh,” Sena says quietly. “I just came to pick up some things that she got me.” He winces at his words. He sounds needy.

“Yes, she mentioned that before she went out.” Seijuro deliberates for a moment, before, “Come in.”

Sena slips out of his shoes and follows Seijuro to the kitchen. There’s several grocery bags, all with Sena’s name printed neatly on them, in the fridge. Seijuro hands them to Sena one by one. Their fingers never brush against each other, almost as if deliberate. There’s no sense of urgency or deceit or—anything. It’s almost clinical. It’s detached.

It makes Sena ache deep in his ribs. After everything that transpired between them – what they share now, their terrible secret – nothing. No reaction. Even in this, Sena is alone.

“I,” Sena starts once he’s at the entrance again, in the building’s hallway. “Ah, I just wanted to, um, apologize for intruding. And for, maybe getting you sick.”

Seijuro nods, door in hand, ready to close it. “I’ll be fine. It is just a minor cold.”

“I see. That’s, that’s good to hear.” Sena nods, smiles tightly. His heart is fluttering in his chest, amplifying the ache between his rib bones with every beat. He just needs to eat. It’s just his fever making him think like this, feel like this. “Well. I’ll be off, then.”

“Goodbye,” Seijuro says, unmoved but politely engaged.

“Yeah, um, thank you, again. Um, bye.”

Seijuro nods again and closes the door.

Sena’s left staring at it dumbly, feeling the distance between someone like Seijuro and someone like himself.

Sena’s eyes are—no he’s not going to cry, he’s just—it’s just… allergies. And his cold. And the fever. And he hasn’t really eaten yet. And he needs to reschedule his meeting and finish his essay and looks at the post Suzuna sent him, but first he’s going to eat when he gets home.

He rides the subway to campus and walks to his apartment. He does his best to ignore the cameras while he puts the groceries away, already planning what he’s going to eat first. It’s a lot of food actually. How did Suzuna get it all home? Maybe she asked Seijuro to help and pick her up.

He’s on the last bag when he spots it.

Nestled between a box of crackers and a box of cereal bars, tucked snuggly between both of them, is an empty picture frame.

Sena has a terrible, terrible thought that maybe it’s for – that maybe it’s _from_ – and it’s such a terrible thought that he has to try it out and see it through. So he pulls off the back of the frame, and he slips his autograph inside, and it fits perfectly. He stares at it. It looks good. How had Suzuna known? It was impossible for her to know.

( _Maybe she asked Seijuro to help_ )

( _Seijuro_ )

Sena washes his sheets while preparing dinner. He eats fatty tuna with roasted vegetables. He puts off his homework for Sunday. And he sleeps for twelve hours.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just lie? You really think someone would do that? Just go on the internet and tell lies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I had like a whole month to write but I literally put it off until a few days ago because I'm trash x( I think I may move to updating every two weeks but with shorter chapters. Also, peep the chapter change!

> **The Kingdom League is hiding something from the public and HQ is helping them**
> 
> posted 3 days ago by **bellIII**
> 
> tags: **pro-heroes, discussion, theories, Dark Knight, Kingdom League**
> 
>   1. Introduction
> 

> 
> A few days ago, there was an attempted robbery at Edozakura Bank. Link to the discussion post that covered the event in full detail, but I’ll go over it briefly.
> 
> Golden Era flew to the scene and got there first and took out many of Chameleon’s forces. Dark Knight appeared shortly after and apprehended Chameleon. Together they were easily able to get everything under control for the police.
> 
> This is what the public was told. This is what’s in the discussion post.
> 
> The public was lied to.
> 
> There was actually a third super present.
> 
> [Image 1]
> 
> Let’s call him Red. There is no trace of Red anywhere else on the internet except for what’s here. This is the only image of _just_ Red out there in the internet. Let that sink in for a moment.
> 
> Heroes rely on getting brand deals and being exposed to the public if they want to make real money. It doesn’t make sense why Red wouldn’t have more photos out there. Agency supers do shoots all the time for publicity. For example, Archangel has all these readily available. Inari as well. Guts’ shoots, too. And it’s not just female heroes: Golden Era, Hydra, Taka, and basically every other hero ever. Even the notoriously antisocial Poison Chain.
> 
> We’ve establish how much popularity has to do with a hero’s life. Yet in this case, we don’t even have Red’s name despite him working with two of the most establish heroes of the current wave.
> 
> It’s true that heroes still have some expectation of privacy even though they are servants to the public. They’re allowed to wear masks after all and many choose to do so. However, there has never been a case where a hero has been so secretive. (Undercover supers don’t count – they are classified as special agents/spies. We are discussing _superheroes_.)
> 
> Well, that’s not entirely true. There is a special case where total anonymity is the norm.
> 
> The world of minors with superpowers. I hope you see where I am going with this.
> 
> Now I would like you all to look at the following:
> 
> [Image 2]
> 
> This photo doesn’t look _too_ bad, but still, something doesn’t look right, does it?
> 
> [Image 3]
> 
> Here. The way Dark Knight is holding Red seems very intimate to me, does it not?
> 
> [Image 4]
> 
> Again, Dark Knight holding on very tightly to Red, touching Red’s lower back with his full hand, pressing Red against his chest. There’s no denying that Dark Knight feels very comfortable touching Red in this manner.
> 
> That in of itself is troubling. But the worst part is how not only the Kingdom League is trying to hide it, but so is HERO HEADQUARTERS.
> 
> I have more proof. This will be a lengthy post, so I’ve decided to split it up into clickable parts for easier reading since it is a lot of information to digest. I’ve working on this post a lot and I’ve done my research.
> 
> Here you’ll find evidence that not only is Dark Knight, the “Honorable Hero”, committing statuary rape, but HQ – _a government regulatory body_ – is aiding in hiding it.

> 1\. Introduction (the beginning which you’ve read)

> 2\. Proof that Red is a minor
> 
>   1. His costume
>   2. His ID
>   3. His secrecy
> 


> 3\. Proof that something is going on between Dark Knight and Red

> 4\. KL and Hero HQ hiding the scandal
> 
>   1. Articles disappearing
>   2. Missing photographer
>   3. Edited news clips
>   4. List of registered interns
> 


> 5\. What does this all mean?
> 
>   1. HQ lying to us could lead them to hide other things
>   2. Our money used to fund abuse
>   3. Collusion and obstruction of justice
> 


> 6\. Conclusion

(click to expand post)

813 comments 3.1k views

(showing newest comments)

**Danknight** :Dark Knight 2:

Yeah this is really easy to do. There’s all those fan video edits people make of like their favorite “hero ship” so I don’t buy it, and honestly its kinda gross that you even thought of it like that. There’s no one even registered as an intern that looks like him. Checkmate.

> **bellIII**
> 
> I already addressed that last part in my post if you bothered to read it. The archives listing all interns was edited, likely that Red was removed and his existence silenced. I’m just stating facts. People agree with me and see it too. Maybe you are blind.

(continue comment thread)

> **CsCharge** [the Kid’s kid]
> 
> A big limelight celebrity secretly using his clout to get away with illegal activities? Color me surprised /s

(continue comment thread)

**adKon** [Archangel’s tiddies]

I read this whole thing after it became the number one thread of all time (jfc Unmasked, really?) and would like a refund of my time. OP’s account is less than a week old with no previous posts. Something sus is going on.

EDIT: I’m not gonna argue with y’all dumbfucks in here. OP obviously has issues and is taking it out on arguably the best hero of our time.

> **gutrxn5** :Golden Era 1:
> 
> how does that matter? OP made a lot of actually good points and has evidence… I’m a huge fan of Dark Knight but now I’m questioning everything!!!

(continue comment thread)

**aroseforinari** :Inari 4:

Is this real? I’ve never seen those pics before or those articles but I don’t know? DK is one of my fav heroes pls tell me this is fake!

> **b0gzly :** Golden Era 2:
> 
> I looked at the screenshots in photoshop and everything looks legit. There’s no distortions, artifacts, extra pixels, nothing. Makes you think, huh?

(continue comment thread)

> **pluxee** [~Poison Chan Desu~]
> 
> Just lie? You really think someone would do that? Just go on the internet and tell lies?

Sena had been putting off looking into the link Suzuna had sent for the entire weekend. He finally worked up the courage to sift through it. Upon loading the website, he finds that a bunch of reply posts relating to the now infamous discussion thread have made it to the front page. Most seem to be finding inconsistencies with the proof provided by the original post, but there is a growing number of users who believe the conspiracy. Taking a breath to steady himself, Sena clicks on the post to read it in its entirety.

His face burns reading through the wild accusations thrown left and right. The strongest argument that proves “Red” is underage is his appearance. The costume _seems_ to be made by Varsity Heroes, a company that specializes in fabricating hero gear for high schoolers. The cut, fabric, and color closely mimic the trademarked designs Varsity Heroes has on their website. The user also points to Sena’s ID card and lanyard and compares it to one from the Kingdom League. Although blurry, the user insists that it looks the same as the ones the agency distributes to their summer interns, which are all high school aged.

The discussion thread also dives into the mysterious anonymity of “Red” and how unnatural that is even for high school supers. Training superpowers and competing at meets to test heroic might is similar to how non-superpower athletics function, but with an added degree of privacy. All instructors are required to sign NDA’s stating they will not reveal the underage supers’ identities. Likewise, all participants must wear costumes that conceal their identities. Still, there are registries, evidence of participation, club registrations and dues, verified rosters, stat leaderboards, and other paper trails, but “Red” seems to have none of it. The user claims it’s because the KL agency has purged the archives in order to prevent the predicament from blowing up.

It’s all a very compelling case, Sena has to admit. It outs Dark Knight as a predator, paints the Kingdom League in a terrible light, and blames HQ for being complicit in hiding what would be its first sex scandal. The post even dances around the topic of sex trafficking.

It’s all _wrong_ , of course. There’s no mention to how Dark Knight attacked Sena on sight (as archenemies are wont to do), or how there’s no pattern of this sort of action in Dark Knight’s (pristine) history, or how a lot of the evidence is circumstantial at best. Not to mention that the user is accusing Dark Knight of sexually harassing a minor based on a few photos cherry-picked out of context to appear suggestive.

Sena’s three paragraphs deep into his strongly worded defense of Dark Knight before his alarm goes off.

He blinks. It’s Monday morning. He has fifteen tabs open on his laptop and five more on his phone. He spent his entire night going down the conspiracy rabbit hole.

. . .

Sena’s hunched over a mug of miso soup in the lair’s conference room, mind roiling with the mess that’s circulating around. He’d thought today wouldn’t have been so bad, but then he’d used the tunnels and was reminded of how many things could be wrong at a time.

“You’re here,” Musashi comments, sitting down with a mug of coffee and laptop, and snapping Sena out of his trance.

“Morning. Uh, Hiruma called me in. I had a class. But, um, well, Hiruma.” (When he had gone down and used the tunnels to get from campus to the hideout…)

_(“Sena, is it?”_

_“Y-Yes, Dr. Sato?”_

_“You are excused from today’s class.” The professor is holding tightly to his phone. He keeps shifting his eyes around. “There was going to be a quiz. But don’t worry about it. I will email you the notes for today. Do you know what I’m trying to say? So please continue to be… discreet.”_

_“T-Thank you, sir, of course, sir.”)_

There’s still a few minutes before the conference is supposed to start. “Do you know what the meeting is about?” (When he’d made his way through the tunnels and taken the same route as before…)

“No,” Musashi says, aloof.

“Oh…” (When he’d almost made it to the same entrance he’d used last time, the extra hallway was gone.)

Sena’s not convinced. A pang of worry strikes through his stomach. He has a laundry list of things he doesn’t want anyone from their group to find out. The cameras he’s not supposed to know about, Seijuro’s visit, knowing about Seijuro in general, and, concurringly, the thing he saw last time in the underground when he had activated his foresight. And the picture frame, too. That feels like a secret even though he’s certain everyone must have seen it already. Biting his lip sharply, Sena realizes his has his nervous face on. Luckily for him, he always looks at least a little anxious, so he shouldn’t draw too much attention.

“Why do you look so nervous?” Musashi asks.

“Ah.” Sena spoke too soon apparently. He hurries up with an excuse. “It’s the class! Yeah, ha ha, I really can’t be missing class too often or I’ll get behind.”

“It’s not like it really matters. Hiruma wants you to join Deimon fulltime. Sooner rather than later.” Musashi levels Sena with serious look over his coffee mug.

Sena looks at his hands. His high school diploma and grades were falsified for him to get in to the university. He knows Hiruma is just humoring him and siphoning the scholarship money. Hiruma said Sena could study until graduation, but the Captain has broken promises before.

“No, I know, I will,” Sena says. “But, I like the class is all.”

Musashi hums and returns to his attention to his laptop.

Out of the three, Sena trusts Musashi the most. He’s the most level headed, a steady rock that can weather both Hiruma and Tsuyumine. Musashi has helped Sena before, too. Fixed up his apartment a little before Hiruma told him to not bother, took care of Sena the one time he really overdid using his foresight, editing the security footage. Additionally, Musashi is blunt.

“Musashi?” Sena ventures. “Can I ask you something?”

“Kinda looks like you’ll ask even if I say no.”

Sena takes in a deep breath. “Is there something I don’t know about the underground tunnels?”

Musashi pauses typing. His shoulders tense up before he forces himself to relax them. “There’s lots of things you don’t know.”

“I saw something weird down there,” Sena whispers.

“Weird?” Musashi’s voice is too calm, like he’s overcompensating.

“Um, I used my foresight the other day, but it was kind of—kind of different. Like for feelings? I know it’s kind of stupid. It’s hard to explain. I’m still not sure how it happened. Anyway. Um. There was this—extra hallway down there. I’ve never seen it. It’s _gone_ now. It disappeared. But when I looked to see if I went down there—”

Musashi juts his hand out for Sena to stop talking abruptly. Sena knows better than to bring it up again, but against his better judgement, he resolves to continue investigating later.

A few seconds later Hiruma and Tsuyumine burst in, arguing. Hiruma’s uniform is smoking and burnt in places, his arm in a sling. Tsuyumine is wearing scrubs, sprayed in suspicious looking liquid.

“Leave me alone already,” Hiruma snaps. “I don’t fucking feel pain.”

“Your fractured radius begs to differ,” Tsuyumine bites back. “Ungrateful patient.”

“I have a few to spare.” Hiruma cracks his neck before surveying the room. “Glad to see everyone else is here. How is Dr. Sato?”

“Terrified,” Sena answers.

“Good,” Hiruma cackles. His face turns even more gleeful. He hooks up his laptop to the table. A very familiar photo pops up on the glossy smartsurface.

Golden Era is looking curiously between Dark Knight, who has a hand to the small of Sena’s back, and Sena-incognito aka “Red” as he’s been dubbed by the internet. Red looks pretty comfortable in Dark Knight’s arms. Sena hasn’t seen this exact photo before even on the Unmasked post, but he knows it’s mere seconds before Seijuro tried incapacitating him.

“Oh my god,” Sena says. He regrets not having his uniform on so he could at least hide his furious blush inside his helmet.

“I didn’t know you two had progressed that far,” Tsuyumine says, taking in the photo with critical eyes.

“I really—it’s not—this is part of him attacking me!”

“Interesting technique,” Musashi says.

Sena turns to him, betrayed.

Hiruma all but rubs his hands together evilly. Black smoke hisses between his fangs. “We’re at twenty-eight percent, dipshits.”

“That’s ahead of schedule,” Tsuyumine says, typing a note.

Hiruma taps on a keyboard outlined on the table. The scandalous photo minimizes to the side while a top-view hologram of a building pops out with kiosks and desks situated inside of it.

“The three biggest hero agencies are going to be all in one place. Hero HQ is having their fall intern fair. Each of them is sending representatives. The Kingdom is sending Golden Era. Hydra is making an appearance for Oceans United. Antidote for Bloodstone Association. Perfect for a major offensive attack, but that’s exactly what they’re expecting. So instead,” Hiruma jabs a finger at Sena. “You’ll be applying for a spot.”

Sena turns to look over his shoulder. There’s no one behind him.

“I meant you, you fucking dumbass.”

“B-But how? They know what I look like! Golden Era saw me already in my, um, my ‘hero costume’. Am I just pretending I have powers? Will I actually show them my real powers? Do I need to come up with a whole new alter ego? I’m barely managing these two now.”

Tsuyumine thwacks Sena over the head with her wooden sword. Sena squeaks and rubs his head.

“The ball’s in HQ’s court,” Tsuyumine says. “They’re trying to downplay a potential scandal. Of course they’ll try anything to correct it.”

“Correct it…?”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if they could point to the public and say that this new sidekick everyone was making a big deal out of, was college aged all along? It wouldn’t be so incriminating on that front. Not that it’s a big. Only the hyper-fixated super fans know about this. The public at large doesn’t know about it.”

“Yet,” Hiruma adds. “Cry tears of joy, bitches. We’re stirring the pot.”

“Don’t worry, kid,” Musashi says. “It’s not your fault you look underage.”

“I—I can’t,” Sena says weakly.

“What the hell are you talking about ‘you can’t’?” Hiruma asks. He takes out an array of guns and makes a show of loading them.

“I, well, uh, um… Okay! I will! Yep!”

“I _thought_ I heard you agree with unquestioning loyalty. Old man, you got the goods?”

Musashi pulls out a one-piece costume from a suitcase and hands it to Sena. It’s a light gray, bordering on dusk-purple except for the reflective-white from the elbows all the way to the fingertips. The material is thin but tough.

“The cut is almost the exact same as the red one but with enough difference to keep conspiracists going. Color scheme is different, it has a hood, but the design is basically the same.”

“Does it… does it have to be so tight?” Sena holds the costume at arm’s length.

“Market research says yes,” Hiruma says.

Musashi tosses two containers at Sena. “Some vantablack face paint in case the hood falls off and a special degreaser that will remove it. Soap and water won’t cut it.”

Hiruma slides a folder over to Sena. “Unfortunately for you, none of the heroes are dumbasses, but none of them are perfect neither. Your goal is to infiltrate the Kingdom, got it? Everything you could possibly need to prove your identity is in there. Every fact will need to be second-nature to you before tomorrow or that fucking gold brick is going to be suspicious of you.”

“What if he recognizes me?”

“You kill him.” Hiruma zooms in to the building’s layout and starts discussing the plan in finer detail, but Sena’s only half-listening.

Hiruma doesn’t actually think Sena can kill Golden Era, but the message is clear: failure is not an option. He’ll need to figure out how to get out of helping Suzuna with her investigation, though he hates letting her down. Cowering into himself slightly, Sena resigns himself to another day of moonlighting as a hero.

(It’s not… the _worst_ thing… being a hero…)

Sena compartmentalizes that thought and puts it away right next to the weird feeling he gets when looking at Seijuro’s framed autograph. Some things are better left squished away and ignored forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some world building in here! Next chapter we meet more heroes ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re in love with Dark Knight, but sure, call yourself just a fan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sooo rushed, but I've been busy recently. Still, kinda stuck to my two week schedule upload though? Some world building and meeting heroes here ^^ getting to the really exciting bits now! This is officially the start of the hero arc! Ending was so different than what I would have liked, but things are never easy with ShinSena, especially in this fic.

“Excuse me?” Suzuna asks from the other end of the phone line, her pressure immense even through telecom. Sena’s slightly taller than her even when she’s wearing skates, but he’s sure he’d be cowering to her might if she were present.

“Uh, yeah, so, um, ha ha…”

“Sena, you didn’t even tell me anything just now.”

“Uh, yeah, so, aha…”

“You just did it again. Use your words!”

“Sorry, I’m just—super busy, at work.”

“Work? You’re at work right now? Still?”

Sena rolls to his side in bed, wrapping the comforter around himself.

“Yep, I’m definitely working right now.”

Someone knocks at his front door.

“Hold on a sec, my boss needs me for something,” Sena says, jogging to the entrance and opening the door.

“Working, huh?” Suzuna’s beatific, smiling face greets him as she hangs up. She’s wearing glasses instead of her usual contacts and is decked out in a checked suit and dazzling white inline skates. “I cannot believe—”

Sena tries closing the door but Suzuna sticks a skate between the frame and the door.

“I already saw you, oh my god,” she says, eyes gleaming. “There’s no point in hiding.”

“How did you find me?” Sena positions his body so Suzuna can’t see inside his apartment though she makes no move to peek over his shoulder. Still, he would rather make sure she doesn’t see his underwear lying in the middle of the empty living room.

“Dude, you’re in the school directory. I wouldn’t put my info out like that. Anyway, I thought you might chicken out, so I took some preventative measures.”

“I’m—still sick,” Sena coughs weakly.

“You’re a horrible liar. You can’t keep any secrets from me.”

Sena barely manages to hold back a wince.

“C’mooon,” Suzuna whines. “What’s the real reason you don’t wanna go with me? We’ll get KBBQ after. I still haven’t treated you to lunch.”

Sena taps his head lightly against the doorframe. He is a useless henchman. He can’t say no to Suzuna.

“Okay, fine.”

“Sweet! I’ll wait out here while you get changed.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” None of his clothes have any holes, and his socks even match today. It’s what he was planning to wear before changing into the hero costume closer to HQ.

With another placating smile, Suzuna says, “Do I need to go in there and change you myself?”

“That—That is not necessary! I’ll be right back.”

“Business casual!” Suzuna says through the door.

Red cheeked, Sena digs through his laundry basket – he never got around to putting his clean laundry away – searching for the only white button down and khakis he owns. He stuffs two folders holding his records and his new supersuit into his backpack. When he finally steps out, Suzuna is rolling up her slacks so they hem artfully above the top of her inline skates.

“You clean up pretty good,” she says. “Got everything? I swear to God, Sena, if you end up not having your birth certificate or ID, I will fight you myself at HQ.”

“It’s all in my backpack, and I double checked already. And I brought snacks.”

“Snacks! God, I love you.”

Sena ducks his head, blinks lightly at the confused feelings that swirl in his gut.

They make their way to the train station, idly catching up. They haven’t seen each other since last time. Sena had told Suzuna that he had to go in and do extra coverage at work. He spent the rest of Monday memorizing his new identity under Hiruma’s draconian tutelage. He didn’t even have time to go home, and instead showered at work and napped on a medical gurney. Tuesday was spent on training a different fighting style that could work with the abilities his alter ego supposedly had. Sena hasn’t slept more than three hours in as many days.

It’s not long before Suzuna finally broaches the discussion thread on Unmasked as their train approaches. They weave their way through the crowd. There’s a few people in hero costumes around them, but Sena doesn’t recognize anyone. Hiruma and Tsuyumine mentioned that none of the interns would suspect him of anything, much less be able to actually take Sena on, but that he should still be cautious.

“I have a few opinions about it,” Sena says.

“Do share, inquiring minds want to know!”

“Okay. Phew. Here we go. So first, it’s all wrong. Um, in my opinion! I know the author worked very hard on it, but it’s a real stretch to call most of the proof ‘evidence.’ It sounds more like a smear campaign.”

“Are you sure you’re not being clouded by your bias?”

“I don’t have a crush on Dark Knight,” Sena says.

“You’d still be capable of performing critical analysis if you did, which you do by the way. Admitting your biases is, like, a fundamental of writing.”

Sena rubs his neck and smooths down his collar. “The post – it didn’t – like with the costume, what if he just kept the same one after graduating high school? I don’t know, stuff like that.”

“They never addressed any counter arguments in their whole essay, that’s true, _but_ …” Suzuna eyes Sena significantly.

“As a fan of Dark Knight, I can admit that there were some… suspicious coincidences.”

“You’re in love with Dark Knight, but sure, call yourself just a fan.”

Sena grumbles to himself before teasing Suzuna about her fascination with Inari. They spend the rest of the train ride on lighter topics that Sena’s grateful for. After the hellish training session, he’s happy to have some reprieve. Still, even their lighthearted banter doesn’t stop from anxiety building in Sena’s stomach with each stop the train makes, until they finally reach their destination. The hero center is a short five-minute walk from the station.

Sena gulps when he takes in the sight before him.

The Hibiya Hero Center campus, owned by Hero HQ, is surrounded by a large greenspace at the front, immaculately trimmed and detailed. There are two large fountains on opposite ends of the space, with the names of fallen and retired heroes engraved around the well. The main building is a tall skyscraper, all windows and elegance, a beacon of order scintillating in the sun. Behind it, the rest of the campus is fenced with heavy concrete walls where hero exams are taken in specially designated field spaces.

Exams are held almost year round. Professional heroes are required to renew their hero license every two years, sidekicks, every three, and interns renew every three to six months, depending on the duration of their internship, so hero centers are always busy.

Already, there’s a throng of people walking through security. Slightly more than half are wearing hero costumes, but almost everyone is young. There’s a saying that if you haven’t become a hero before you’re thirty, you won’t make it. During the fall and spring, the intern population is typically made up of young adults, as almost all underage supers attend classes during the school year with the exception of a few high schoolers from hero academies. Intern spots are notoriously competitive. Despite how rare superpowers are, the number of aspiring heroes only increases year after year. For every available position, there are sometimes hundreds of applicants.

And here Sena is, trying to steal a spot from a deserving hero.

“Ooh, this is so exciting,” Suzuna says, bouncing in place while they line up to get scanned in to the building.

“Ehhh, I’m kind of nervous.”

“When are you _not_ nervous?” Suzuna gets a sudden wave of panic. “Oh my god, what if I see Inari? Do I look okay? I would die, I would literally die, Sena.”

“I thought we were going to the intel side of the fair?”

“We are, yes, but, like, what if she’s walking around? What if she talks to me?”

“You just… talk back?”

“I’m good at talking back.” Suzuna nods rapidly, almost talking to herself. “Seijuro says I do it all the time.”

Once Sena makes it through the metal detector, he takes in his surroundings in order to get his bearings. He has the layout of the building memorized – at least everything that was available to the public. Still, it’s a lot different seeing something on paper versus in real life. The interior is sleek and full of light filtering through the windows, with the entrance’s ceiling being three floors high. Screens are peppered on the walls with slideshows of information, maps, and highlight clips of heroes in action.

In the lobby, rows of cubicles have been set out and with banners alphabetized by last names for applicants to pick up their visitor badges from workers.

“Here’s the plan Sena.” Suzuna whispers, pulling him to the side. “We’re going to have to split up once we’re in there to draw less attention. Act natural, go look around the agencies for the first, like, thirty-forty minutes. I’m going to text you a map of the building I found online. Don’t ask how I got it and don’t do anything to stand out.”

“You’re literally wearing skates indoors…”

“Don’t stand out _too_ much. I _am_ actually vying for a spot you know.”

Sena swallows. It’s bad enough that Suzuna is already an aspiring journalist, but for her to work for HQ would really be tempting fate for Sena to get caught. “You’d actually work here?”

“HQ isn’t all bad. What better way to beef up my resume?”

“Getting a regular internship that doesn’t involve subterfuge?”

“But this is way more fun.”

Suzuna skates off to get in line for her badge and gives him a thumbs up while Sena goes to his respective queue. He gets out his paperwork, careful to grab the correct folder, and hands it to the worker. She looks through it analytically before scanning and filing copies and handing Sena back his documents.

“Good luck in there,” she says once she hands over Sena’s pass and badge.

Sena bows. “Thank you – ah.” One of his documents slips from his folder. Before he can bend down to grab it, a person wearing all white dives to catch it.

“You should be more careful with your personal stuff! What are you doing just letting sensitive documents spew out like that? You’ll never make it in the business like this.” The stranger is a young man, about Sena’s age with spikey black hair and tape on his nose. He gets up and dusts himself off.

“S-Sorry. Thank you, I appreciate,” Sena says, taking back his paper. “I’m just kind of nervous.”

“Well, you should be. This is only the single biggest Hero HQ event of the year! I’m making it this year, for real. I’m getting a spot! Name’s Monta by the way.” He sticks out a hand and Sena shakes it.

“Sena. Nice to meet you.” They fall into line to enter the main room where all the agencies have set up booths. Sena doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention, but making small talk is only polite. “You’re applying for an intel spot?”

“I’m applying in the heroic’s division!” Monta’s face folds into anger and indignation. “Can’t you tell by my superhero suit?”

Sena knows better than to say _anything_ about the white, glittery disco suit Monta is wearing.

“I’ve been getting rejected forever, but does that make me any less heroic?”

“No, look, it was just a mistake…” Sena says nervously. They’re drawing a few stares. “This is the line for the intel division of the intern fair.”

Monta deflates. “What an amazing guy.”

“Huh?”

“You were trying to _help_ me this entire time. I could have been stuck in this line for hours if you hadn’t told me. In a sense, _you_ were a hero to me just now.”

“Uh… you’re exaggerating it… You would have figured it out.”

“I owe you one,” Monta says, already getting out of line, shaking Sena’s hand vigorously. “If you get a spot, ask to be my handler, yeah? Ask for Magnet Hands.”

“Your, um, your alias says Monkey Hands.” Sena points to the name card looped around Monta’s neck. “On your badge.”

“WHAT?!” Monta stares at his badge in disbelief. “I said _magnet_. _Magnet Hands_. ‘Cus I can catch anything with ‘em. Do they think I look like a monkey or somethin’?”

Realizing that Monta actually wants an answer, Sena stutters out, “N-No! No, absolutely not!” The resemblance isn’t totally lost on Sena.

Monta looks mollified and gives one last quick goodbye as he makes his way to the heroic’s side.

The mob of applicants has increased, there are easily thousands of people at the event now, all chattering eagerly away. It resembles part comic convention and part job fair. There’s a low-level hum of excitement. Sena’s nerves only tense tighter because of it.

There’s two choices plainly for him to see even without his futuresight. Remain in line and play along with Suzuna’s idea, or follow the Captain’s orders.

Sena steps out of line and melts into the crowd. He heads to the bathroom Hiruma told him to use. The CCTV for this particular area is out of service and the bathroom, partially hidden by looping stairs, is missing a sign and instead looks like any other room. Deserted. Sena sneaks in easily and locks the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Sena emerges in his new hero gear, hood drawn up to hide his brown hair. His costume is more understated than some of others. The suit – like all of his costumes apparently – fits like a second skin, a muted gray-mauve color with white gloves and boots. There’s no extra gadgets or bulky equipment or intimidating mask, just a streamlined suit and flowy hood that plays to his agility. Even with the top half of his face blacked out, he looks disarming. He adjusts the opaque goggles Musashi added last minute and walks back around to the lobby.

He gets into line for his fake identity and passes over his documents. Since he’s working under a masked-hero alias, the identification process is more complicated and requires proof that Sena is registered in the hero system. The worker, a man this time, doesn’t seem to blink as he processes Sena’s fake credentials and hands him his badge.

“Break a leg,” the man says.

“Thanks,” Sena squeaks.

He scurries away into the line for the heroic’s department, finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. He wishes he’d brought his backpack with him instead of hiding it in the bathroom’s ceiling. He needs a snack, but he’s not giving up his spot in line to go to the cafeteria. The officials are letting in applicants in a steady stream, pausing admissions when capacity is reached every so often. Thankfully, Sena manages to squeeze by with the group ahead of him.

Everyone except for security officers are wearing hero costumes, some looking more homemade than others. His stomach does an excited flip, and he lets himself get lost with the crowd, walking around and taking in the sights even though he already has the layout memorized. He’s never been around so many superheroes before. It seems like every booth already has a line of anxious people ready to submit their résumés.

The first part of applying to the heroic’s department entails submitting résumés and having a quick chat with the recruiters. Usually the recruiters can tell early on if someone would be a good fit for their agency or not. The second part involves showing off their abilities in one of the combat arenas specially designated to handle superpowers. Lastly, there comes the interviews which only a small handful get selected to partake in. With each step, smaller numbers of would-be heroes get to participate as applicants are weeded out.

Sena steadies himself as he rounds a corner, knowing that the Kingdom League will be behind it. Regardless of how much he’s prepared, it all comes down to this.

Golden Era is standing next to the table, talking about the accomplishments of the agency to a group of five applicants holding on to his every word. The line beyond the table serpentines _seven_ times.

“Good god,” Sena mutters. If he stands in line for that, he’ll have to wait hours to even get the chance to submit his application. Hiruma stressed that Sena would have to make a good, strong impression in order for his resume to be considered. Even with the Captain pulling strings from behind the metaphorical curtain, there was still a nineteen percent chance that Sena would be rejected.

Rejection isn’t an option.

He needs to get into line now.

But…

Sena decides to continue looking around the fair before being stuck in line for his foreseeable future. This may be the only chance he gets to interact with professional heroes and not have to fear for his health as much as he usually does.

Agencies from all across Japan have traveled to be part of the convention. Sena spends some time talking with a few search & rescue agencies. He’s mostly preparing his interview skills for when he has to talk to Golden Era, but he lets the agencies scan his badge and log him in to their records for… reasons. He lets a small thought flit through his mind – if he hadn’t met the Captain – if he’d fostered his abilities himself – if he actually became a hero –

A hand waves in front of his vision.

Sena turns and has none other than Nereid standing before him.

_Name: Nereid_

_Current rank: 4 (+9)_

_Bio: Sonar sense, water manipulation, heightened physical abilities._

_Fun fact: When she’s not leading Oceans United, she can be found speaking out about protecting all marine life. Her costume is designed after her college cheerleading uniform!_

_Oh my god, I’ve been caught_ , Sena thinks.

Nereid’s face flashes over with concern. “Hey, sorry, it’s okay! I didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted you to invite you to apply for Oceans United!”

“Ah,” Sena says. “I think I misheard you say you wanted me to apply to your agency.”

Nereid laughs. “I’m serious. I can sense you’re strength with my sonar.” She taps her nose and winks at him.

Sena gapes, mind reeling for something to say. Instead, he just wheezes.

“Here, come with me please.” Nereid clasps Sena’s hand and drags him through the convention. The crowd parts for them like the Red Sea, and now Sena knows it’s too late to melt into the multitude.

Hydra, looking miserable as always, is manning the Oceans United booth next to a clerical worker. They’re in between talking with applicants, shuffling paperwork around and typing on tablets. They have a line just as long as the Kingdom League’s, but Nereid breezes past the line and pushes Sena in front of her, like child displaying a perfectly scored spelling test. Hydra looks unimpressed.

_Name: Hydra_

_Current rank: 11 (+1)_

_Bio: Oceanic control stems from his magic trident that only the worthy may use._

_Fun fact: The tallest member in Oceans United, standing at 6’9”._

“I found a recruit,” Nereid says.

Sena, who stands more than a foot shorter than Hydra, wrings his gloved hands. He isn’t actually trying to apply elsewhere. Those lesser agencies didn’t really count. It’s not like he would pop up on anyone’s radar by applying to an agency that works in a city with a population of less than ten thousand. Applying to Oceans United, however?

He needs to find a way out of the spotlight. He starts edging away.

“I don’t mean to impose,” Sena says. “I’m sorry. I’ll just wait in line for my turn.”

Hydra’s large hand stops him in his tracks. Though it’s just one hand, Sena can’t move at all.

“If you will excuse us,” Hydra addresses the waiting applicants, “we have something important to discuss.”

Panic spikes through Sena’s rapidly beating heart. Did Hydra catch on? He’s never fought either of the two Ocean heroes, but maybe they recognize him anyway. Leaving the clerical worker at the table, the trio go to a curtained off area behind their booth.

“So Nereid specifically picks you out from the crowd of worthy applicants,” Hydra starts, “and you deliberately go out of your way to go back in line?” Hydra releases Sena who would have tumbled if it wasn’t for Nereid stabilizing him. Hydra strokes his chin thoughtfully. “That is very polite of you. Here at Oceans United, we value people who are courteous.”

 _My conscious is throbbing_ , Sena thinks, twisting his fingers anxiously. “N-No, it’s alright. It’s really not – I don’t mind waiting, really…”

“He had the strongest aura of the crowd,” Nereid says. She scans the QR code on Sena’s badge to pull up his basic information before Sena can stop her. Nereid and Hydra look at the screen intently.

_Alias: Eventide_

_Name: Undisclosed (masked)_

_Abilities: Avoidance – can slip past physical contact as long as fully concentrated. Enhanced speed, strength, and durability. Enhanced senses. Best suited for melee combat and support._

_Referral: None (independent)_

“No referral, huh?” Nereid says. “That’s rare, especially considering how strong you are. You’ve got experience under your belt. How old are you? Where did you train?”

“I’m nineteen. Um, I signed NDAs for the training camps I attended.” The fact that Sena’s following the script Hiruma drilled into him does little to ease his squirming conscious. It’s all blatant lies.

Nereid raises her eyebrows slightly but gives nothing else away.

“What made you want to be a hero?”

“Um… it’s not the most heroic reason. But… when I was little, I got bullied a lot for being weak and small. I didn’t get my powers until later, but then I got teased because I had a c-coward’s power. I know my power’s not flashy or particularly heroic-seeming. Still, I have it anyway. I decided that even if it is a coward’s power, I can do good with it. It all depends on how it’s used.” Sena nods once, like he’s sure of himself and not lying through his teeth. Sena has to admit that his so-called ‘ability’ is pretty close to something he can mimic with his futuresight, so at least there’s that. The Captain says the best lies are grounded in truths.

Nereid turns to Hydra. “Polite, well spoken, and a good set of morals. What a catch! And his suit! He’ll fit right in with our aesthetic! Isn’t he pretty?”

 _P-Pretty?_ Sena thinks, incredulously. He chooses to fixate on that rather than any other comments about his morals. His conscious can’t take much more.

“I—don’t think HR would like us talking like this,” Hydra responds, the tips of his ears going pink. “That is not really the matter to focus on.”

“Just an added bonus.” Nereid nods solemnly before smiling back at Sena. “Well, how about it then? Want to leave your resume with us?”

“I—”

“I can sense some nervousness, that’s fine.” Nereid takes them back out to the booth. Sena and Hydra spend a few seconds motioning for the other to go ahead first until Nereid finally yanks Hydra out. She pulls out a tablet and swipes through the screen. “Oceans United is an established agency with his expectation. It can be kind of intimidating. Even so, you really shouldn’t be. We are definitely interested in someone with your abilities.”

“T-thank you,” Sena says.

“Just sign here, and it’ll grant us access to view your file in full.”

Sena signs his fake name on the tablet.

Hydra coughs into his hand politely. “Please consider us among your top choices.”

“I will—”

“LET’S GO HEROES! FIGHT! ACHIEVE! NEVER GIVE UP!” The loud cheer carries even over the din of the convention center and is followed by someone absolutely shredding it on the electric guitar.

“So lively,” Nereid muses, bobbing her head to the beat.

“Not this again,” Hydra mutters. He rubs his temples.

“THE BLOODSTONE ASSOCIATION IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS! PLEASE FORM AN ORDERLY LINE!”

“Well, thank you, um, again, for your time, but if you’ll excuse me,” Sena says, darting into the crowd. Without realizing it, he walks toward Bloodstone, where all the noise is coming from.

Bloodstone has their booth set up with a sound system, smoke machine, and strobing lights. Standing animatedly on top of a makeshift stage and performing a choreographed routine are Antidote and Guts. Taka sits at the booth, casually reading a book. He has earplugs in.

_Name: Antidote_

_Current rank: 8 (no change)_

_Bio: By making chemical changes to his blood at will, Antidote can subject his victims to all sorts of conditions. Enhanced physical abilities._

_Fun fact: Antidote originally wanted to use the alias Spider Poison but was advised against it when informed it sounded like a villain name._

_Name: Guts_

_Current rank: 23_

_Bio: Unwavering fighting spirit paired with her physical strength allows for her signature brawler fighting style._

_Fun fact: An ambassador for the GiA Movement (Girls in Athletics) that offers underserved communities information and access to health and fitness activities._

_Name: Taka_

_Current rank: 3 (no change)_

_Bio: Flight and superhuman physical facilities. An aerial ace that can coolly evaluate any situation._

_Fun fact: One of the few unmasked heroes, Taka does extensive outreach programs for children in baseball._

Antidote goes on another dramatic flourish on his guitar. A giant crowd has accumulated around the stage, though none seem to actually be handing over applications.

Sena winces at the volume and consciously focuses on easing up on his sensitive hearing. He spots a bowl of ear plugs next to Taka on the table and scurries close to take one. Sena holds his breath, aware of Taka’s critical gaze. It’s known unofficially as his eagle eye – he can track not only movements, but also intents and thoughts. At least, that’s how the rumors go. Sena gives a watery, sheepish smile, and says a quick thank you before he tries to leave.

“Hold on,” Taka’s voice is pitched perfectly to just barely cut above Antidote’s guitar and Guts’ chanting yet still not carry farther than Sena’s ears.

“Y-Yes?” Sena asks.

“You may as well apply now since you were planning to do so later,” Taka says. He points at a tablet on the table already loaded with the application screen, not looking up from his reading.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you circle around us four times while we were setting up.”

“I—that could be—I was just looking…”

“In the first place, there’s no point in you applying, but you may as well and get it over with.”

A cold stone of dread drops into Sena’s stomach at Taka’s words.

“What…?”

“You’re here to apply to the Kingdom. They won’t let you get in anywhere else. At least when you get your rejection letters, you will also receive feedback. That’s what you’re after for, right?”

“I’m not following,” Sena says, defaulting to the script Hiruma have him. He tugs on his hood self-consciously. “Bloodstone has a great reputation despite being so new. I would learn a lot from a growing organization like this.”

Taka sets his book down, and his impassive eyes bore into Sena. “Where did you train?”

“I had to sign—”

“Had to sign NDAs at the camps where you were taught? I’ve heard that before.” Taka’s white wings shift slightly behind him, almost in annoyance. The rest of him looks unbothered. He steeps his long fingers together, thoughtful. “We could use another fighter. Guts is looking to retire in the near future. Having you on record would ease the process.”

“But I thought your agency wouldn’t accept me?” Sena feels rooted to the spot, like a rabbit staring into the face of a predator, freezing instead of fleeing or fighting back.

“It’s not that we won’t,” Taka says. He reaches out and scans Sena’s badge. The application screen loads his information and fills out the blanks on the tablet. “It’s that we can’t at this time.”

 _They know_ , Sena thinks. Cold chills of dread snake through his body. It’s the only explanation.

“Well?” Taka juts his chin at the tablet, where Sena’s signature is required. “KL may have recruited you for this intern cycle, but there will be others.”

“Oh,” Sena says after a moment. He can hear the blood rushing through his ears. He feels almost light-headed with relief. Taka thinks that he’s been scouted by the Kingdom already, not that Sena’s trying to infiltrate the agency. “ _Oh_.” Sena signs his name, almost giddy. “Sure, what’s the harm, right?”

Taka nods, and Sena takes that as his chance to leave.

He glances at a clock, face dropping when he sees that it’s already been two hours. There’s still two hours left to the initial stage, but he doesn’t have any more time to waste. He darts across the convention, straight to the Kingdom League booth. Golden Era is still manning the booth, charming as ever.

The line hasn’t gotten any smaller since the intern fair opened up.

Counting the line is Dark Knight.

Sena has seen more of Seijuro recently than he’s seen Dark Knight. Seeing the hero before him in full costume reminds him of why he’s here, how careful he needs to be, how much time he’s wasted. It sobers him.

Sena’s treated this whole thing as a game. Playing pretend. He let himself get carried away. He’s not here to have fun or network. He’s not a hero after all.

Mustering every ounce of bravado he has, Sena walks up to Dark Knight and taps his shoulder.

“Excuse me?” Sena asks, not bothering to alter his voice.

Dark Knight turns around. He doesn’t give away that he recognizes Sena instantly.

“Hello. How may I help you?” he asks, polite if a bit clipped. Already fellow applicants from the line are staring curiously at the duo.

“I would like to apply to the Kingdom League. P-please.” Sena can’t help but add the pleasantry.

Dark Knight leans in close to Sena’s ear.

“You should have waited in line.”

The Captain’s instructions on what to do if Dark Knight were to resist are imprinted into Sena’s mind. Sena, fighting his throbbing conscious, lightly places one of his hands atop Dark Knight’s bicep. Intimate.

Dark Knight jerks away. It—doesn’t feel good to see that reaction.

“What are you doing?” Dark Knight asks flatly.

“I would like to apply.” Sena takes a small step forward, closer to Dark Knight than strangers would comfortably be.

Whatever reservation Dark Knight is fighting through are cut by Golden Era’s intrusion. Golden Era slings an arm casually around Sena’s shoulders and guides him to the booth.

“Ah, Eventide, long time no see!” Golden Era says, using his PR voice. His eyes are calculating, sizing Sena up. “Happy to see you’re still interested in our agency. I was getting nervous you had already been snapped up,” he teases.

“Not at all. The Kingdom League is my top choice.”

“That’s great to hear. Now if you don’t mind?” Golden Era scans Sena’s badge and then hands over the tablet for Sena to sign. “We both know this is just a formality. We’ve been talking about working together for _ages_. How did Notre Dame treat you?”

Sena wishes he was in contact with Deimon now for the extra support. He fakes a smile, signing his name, thankful they had covered this kind of situation. “Just happy to be back now.”

Sena understands Tsuyumine more clearly now. The Kingdom wants to build this character enough to explain away any misconception surrounding Dark Knight before quietly taking care of the problem once the suspicion has gone down. It’s a gamble on Deimon’s side and the Kingdom’s side.

The tablet announces that Sena’s application has been accepted, but despite everything, Sena can’t relax.

Seijuro hasn’t met his eye this entire time.

It bothers him more than the fact that Golden Era already knew his alias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heroes mentioned:  
> Archangel - Mamori  
> Golden Era - Yamato  
> Dark Knight - Shin  
> Inari - Karin  
> Nereid - Otohime (Poseidon's cheerleading captain)  
> Hydra - Kakei  
> Antidote - Akaba  
> Guts - Katsuko (the Yuuhi Guts manager)  
> Poison Chain - Ikari (headcannon that his fans bastardize his name to poison chan)  
> Taka - Taka (he seems like he would be the kind of guy to just use his real name lol. Besides, it means hawk so that is basically a hero name, too, right??)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are some unfortunate rumors we would like to address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my two week update but posted a tad bit earlier. There's some INTRIGUE going on in this chapter, plus more brooding ShinSena interaction! Haven't written any of the next chapter except for what I already have in my outline, so I probably won't post until two to three weeks. HOWEVER.
> 
> ShinSena will actually seriously really be starting next time! I may have to update the chapter count once again, since it seems we're in it for the long haul.

Sena sits in a corner of the cafeteria after having thrown his lunch tray away, waiting for the next stage to be announced momentarily. The intern convention is a whole day affair which also serves to test a candidate’s stamina and resilience in high pressure environments.

A zombie rises from the other side of the table.

“Oh, M-Monta, it’s just you,” Sena says, managing to strangle down a scream. Monta looks emaciated and exhausted, deep bags under his eyes, his cheeks hollowed out. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Huh? How do you know my name?” Monta asks from where he’s sprawled on the table.

Sena freezes in place, one out-reached hand hovering where it had been on its way to shake Monta.

“Eh?” Sena fights through his panic. “Your—it’s on your badge!”

“Only my friends know to call me Monta.”

“Ah, no, no, I think… I read your name tag wrong. Yeah, uh. ‘Raimon Tarou’, I just read it all together, and got ‘Monta’, uh…”

Monta stares at Sena.

“Oh. That makes sense. Sorry for snapping at you, man. I just been real on edge waiting for the results.” Monta scratches at the tabletop lightly before straightening in his seat. “Wait, aren’t you that guy that everyone’s been talking about?”

“Everyone…?” Hiruma certainly won’t be happy about that. “No, I think you’re mistaken.”

“Yeah!” Monta snaps his fingers a few times. “What was it again? Evening Time? Rip Tide?”

“…Eventide?”

“That’s it! This must be a cake walk for you, training in the States and going to Notre Dame.”

“Well…” Sena says slowly. “Um, having that kind of background would indeed help.”

“Dude, you wanna celebrate entering out internships together?”

“Oh, do you already have an offer?”

“Eh, I’m not sure yet. I have to wait until everything’s announced. Last year I got to the second stage, but just barely.”

“How did the interviews go this time around?”

“About the same in all of ‘em. They all said my power was too specialized.”

“I think it’s how you use your power that matters,” Sena says. “Mine’s not too impressive on paper either, but I’ve trained a lot to use it effectively.”

“Don’t you also have like ‘punch good, jump high’ sorta shit?”

“Uh, well…”

“But you’re right!” Monta slaps his hands against his face, putting on a brave face. “You can’t be pessimistic in life!”

The speakers crackle to life overhead. Archangel’s recognizable voice comes through.

“Good afternoon, candidates. Results will be posted momentarily on all screens. If you do not see your name listed, you will receive an email explaining how you can improve your chances for next time. The next phase will start in fifteen minutes. Congratulations to the candidates who are proceeding to the next stage in our process, and thank you all for your efforts today!”

The results are sent out and posted on large screens in the lobby the next moment. The crowd rushes to either check their phone for rejections or to take pictures next to their names on the list of candidates. Monta and Sena hype themselves up before looking up their names.

Sena’s alias is listed under all three top agencies as well as the few other agencies he applied to on a whim.

 _I made it_ , he thinks. Seeing his name under the Kingdom League’s staff make his heart flutter with anticipation. _If only this was real_. He then looks for Monta’s name.

“I… I can’t find anything for Magnet Hands,” Sena says, trying to keep the worried tone out of his voice.

“It’s gotta be here somewhere!” Monta is still searching frantically through the agencies he applied to.

“What if—um…” Sena points to Monta’s alias, wincing with sympathy. “I think I found it…”

“What? Where?!”

“Under Bloodstone…”

_Alias: Monkey Hands_

_Name: Raimon Tarou_

_Abilities: Localized negative telekinesis – can attract objects to hands within certain radius. Best suited for support and mid- to close-range combat._

_Referral: Honjou Camp (previously)_

“This was my reach agency!” Monta says, collecting himself. “I mean I knew I would make it, I dunno why you were so nervous for me, Eventide. Heh. I’ll just have to correct my alias later.”

Sena smiles back. “Congratulations Monta!”

“Now which agency did you make?”

“I also got into Bloodstone.”

“That means we’d work together! You should totally accept there!”

 _They only have on spot open_ , Sena thinks.

“Oh, I see you got into Oceans United, too. Cool. And… Sea Front.” Monta’s teeth grind through his smile. “And Forestry. And Local Protect. _And_ the Kingdom… Cool, cool, cool.”

“We can, let’s just stop there…”

Monta points at Sena. “From now on you’re not just my friend, but also my greatest rival. I won’t go easy on you. Bloodstone is only taking on one intern, and it’s going to be me.”

“I’m trying to get into the Kingdom, so it’s really fine. I want you to get the spot.”

“Grr, you’re being all cool saying stuff like that, but it won’t make me back down!”

“Okay,” Sena laughs. “Let’s just do our best!”

Monta’s bravado evaporates once they’re in the combat arena. They’re surrounded by numerous other applicants, and the atmosphere is buzzing with tension and anticipation. Out of the thousands of candidates that attended, only a few hundred remain. They’ve been split into four arenas. Each arena has rows of seats surrounding a reinforced combat stage. Applicants are called numerically to demonstrate their abilities for up to five minutes using tools and equipment they requested when submitting their applications. A panel of HQ experts view the live audition as well as the recordings and consult the various agencies in order to guarantee the best matches. Every agency has one representative present at each arena to view live demonstrations as well. Fellow candidates are free to come and go as they please, but most stay to size up the competition.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Monta says. He looks like his zombie form again.

“I’m nervous, too,” Sena says.

“No offense, dude, but you look like the kind of guy who’s always nervous.”

“So I’ve been told.” Sena tugs at his hood. Self-doubt is eating away at him again. His ability is subtle compared to other people. Everyone is burning to continue their passion, fueled by achieving their dreams. He’ll have to be precise and hone all his abilities to stand out among the hundreds of would-be heroes.

The lights surrounding the stage focus at its center. Guts somersaults onto the combat stage and unfurls a flag with the Bloodstone logo on it.

“YOSH! Welcome you amazing heroes! This is the start of the second stage. For some, this will be the start of your careers. For others, there will be no advancement. There’s no telling what may happen. You only control your performance, so give it your all!” Guts’ passionate tears fall down her cheeks. Guts is regarded by many as an inspiration of never giving up due to her arduous career to become a pro hero. No one can deny her earnestness. “We want everyone here to succeed! Every single one of you has what it takes to be a hero! Fight on!”

“She’s pretty cool,” Monta says, cheeks lightly red, once Guts returns to sit with the other admins. “What’s your number?”

“Um… 4021,” Sena says. Dark Knight is the Kingdom League’s representative. Sena can’t take his eyes off of him.

“I’m eighty.”

“ _Eighty_?”

“Don’t sweat, it’s just in order of when you signed up, not that four-thousand people are acutally in front of you. Last time I was three-hundred somethin’, and I went like twentieth.”

“Ah, that’s right, you’ve done this before.”

“Heh, I guess you could call me a bit of a pro already, huh?” Monta says, trying to hide a smug smile. “But this year… I feel good about it. I’m going to make it.”

The stream of applicants starts then. A screen shows the candidate queue with the current candidate’s number in green. It piques Sena’s interest since he’s only ever fought against established, professional heroes, and never against anyone still at the start of their training.

“Hello! My name is Sheer Cold, and I’m applying to the Desert Sun Coalition.” She’s layered in thermal gear, a thick jacket, and heavy winter boots. There’s a table set up with plants. She takes in a deep breath before exhaling a fine frost from her mouth that slowly travels up the vines, dusting them in ice. Sheer Cold shivers violently while continuing using her frost breath. She crushes a leaf in her trembling hands, shattering it into specks of ice.

And proceeds to faint.

A medic team rushes to her side, transferring her to a stretcher and taking her to the on-site clinic.

The consultants and representatives seem to have been impressed.

“That was pretty good!” Monta says. “’Cept the part where she overdid it at the end.”

Sena nods.

The rest of the candidates all seem similar. Their powers and personalities vary, but they all share one crucial detail: they lack control.

The difference in levels between rookies and professionals becomes apparent then.

Less than five percent of the population develops any sort of superhuman ability. Even then, having a superpower doesn’t necessarily mean that person can become a hero. Strong abilities are rare, and possessing more than one is even rarer. It’s why the Golden Cohort is held in such high regard.

Golden Era. Dark Knight. Inari. Taka. Antidote. Hydra. All blessed with signature abilities as well as enhanced physical prowess and keen intellect to implement their powers. They emerged onto the scene at roughly the same time. The list is unofficial. Sometimes Archangel and Kid are included, though usually they’re seen as the pre-cursors to the Golden Cohort. It’s the strongest hero wave to date by and large. Since their entrance to the hero world, there have not been any sidekicks or rookies with near as much talent despite the increase in applicants every year, leading them to also be called the Golden Age of heroes.

“My turn’s coming up!” Monta hisses. He’s sweating through his disco suit. “I’m gonna go stretch. I’m at maximum freak out levels right now.”

“You’ll do great! Just try your best!” Sena encourages as Monta goes to the queue area. Sena puzzles for a moment. How long have they been here? He glances at the clock on the screen.

It’s been almost six hours since he first stepped into the Hero Center, three hours since he was supposed to contact Suzuna, and Sena completely _forgot_. His anxiety starts rising. Is she looking for him? Did she get caught? Has she left already? Does she hate him now? Did she get an interview?

“My name is Magnet—er, I mean Monkey Hands!” Monta belts from the combat stage. His back is ramrod straight, arms tightly clenched to his sides. “I’m applying to the Bloodstone Association!”

Monta bends his knees and nods, signaling to the proctor that he’s ready to commence. From the sides of the stage, large cannons swivel so their barrels angle upwards towards the combat stage. They shoot metal projectiles into the air. Monta leaps into action. He sprints to one corner, tracking the arc of round shot and jumps. He’s fast, but not superhumanly fast. The cannonball appears to be out of reach until Monta dives forward, hand out reached, and the cannonball diverges from its path and lands on Monta’s hand. He rolls to break his fall and skids to a stop, in control of every movement. The intensity of projectiles increases, but Monta is able to keep pace, catching round shots that bullet through the air at dangerous speeds.

Sena’s jaw drops. _How did Monta get rejected before? He’s good!_

Monta’s range is insane, managing to catch even things that seem impossible. He catches the last one, panting heavily and soaked with sweat. He tosses it to his right, but the cannonball ends up going left and behind him somehow. It cracks the ground when it lands.

 _Ah…_ Sena thinks. _Still!_

After Monta finishes his post-demo medical checkup, he meets back up with Sena. His wrists and elbows are bandaged tightly and there’s ice packs taped around his shoulders.

“Monta, that was amazing!” Sena whispers.

“Heh, thanks.” Monta sinks into his seat, gasping for breath still. “I’ve been working really hard. It’s my fourth time applying. I gotta make it this time. There’s pros that are my age, y’know?”

“I think you got what it takes.”

“Thanks… Evan Time.” Monta’s head lolls to the side.

“Eventide,” Sena corrects gently.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what… I said.” Monta falls asleep, clearly exhausted from a long day and a strenuous demo.

Sena glances at the screen. It lists ten candidates up next, none of which match Sena’s number. He takes this as his cue to check up on Suzuna. He hurries to the restroom where he left all his stuff and retrieves his phone.

Twenty texts from Suzuna and two missed calls.

_From: Suzuna_

_7:12 am_

_7 am shenanigans time. sending the map now!_

_[Image]_

_This is probably the earliest we’ve caused mischief_ _୧_ _༼ ͡_ _◉ᴥ ͡_ _◉_ _༽_ _୨_

_7:15 am_

_Do you want to meet up for lunch later? craving KBBQ lol >.<_

_7:42 am_

_Finally in OMFG!!!_

_Time to actually network~_

_8:01 am_

_Have u gotten in yet?_ _໒( ” •̀_ _ᗜ •́ ” )_ _७_

_8:56 am_

_ahhhh broooo I just applied to my first agency!! still gonna try for HQ doe_

_9:04 am_

_ok i know I said look around for 40 min and then investigate BUT, i'm gonna apply to a few more places! How’s it going with you?_

_I haven’t seen you yet, but the event is huge so yee. You didn’t leave me right?_

_9:32 am_

_In line for HQ booth! lemme know if ur okay!_

_Also, maybe we should get lunch on campus and dinner at KBBQ afterwards?_

_10:28 am_

_I just got advanced to the second stage for an intel spot at HQ askdfhsk IT STARTS AT 12:00_

_Will u hate me forever if I go?_

_Also lunch?_

_wya?_

_11:07 pm_

_I’m gonna be at the cafeteria! Not to be alarmist buuuttt ur kinda freaking me out with the radio silence_

_food line’s long, but smells sooo good_

_╰_ _(_ _˵_ _ヘ_ _ω_ _ヘ_ _✿_ _)_ _╯_

_11:31 pm_

_A little pricey for curry but I just ate some and umm im in love???_

_[Image]_

_Nervous for stage 2 of intern fair. It’s supposed to be cognitive tests!_

_11:38 pm_

_are u okay?_

_11:53 pm_

_Sena, please text me back. You’re making me worried._

_11:57 pm_

_I’m about to go into the tests. Hope everything is okay. Lmk._

**_1:49 pm_ **

**_Sorry! My phone didn’t charge last night._ **

**_I had to borrow a charger and it was just a mess._ **

Before Sena can send anything else, he hears footsteps approaching the restroom. He tosses his phone inside his backpack again and just barely slides the ceiling tile closed when the door opens.

Dark Knight enters. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking as his hero suit covers him completely. Conspiracy theories of Dark Knight being a robot have been around as long as Dark Knight has been a hero. But somehow, Sena picks up on a note of unsureness.

“Your turn is coming up. There were a few candidates that conceded.”

“Ah, thank you, I’ll be right there,” Sena says.

Dark Knight remains still.

“We can talk freely for the moment,” Seijuro says, voice low. “Are you here with Suzuna?”

Sena hesitates slightly, before trusting Seijuro’s words. “Yes.”

“Is she here for an article?”

“I-I’m not sure. Maybe? She might be looking for other information. And she really is submitting applications.”

“Have you seen what’s been posted about us?”

Sena’s face flushes red-hot under his vantablack paint. He only nods.

“Does she believe it?”

“Not… not all of it. Some parts.”

Dark Knight’s posture sags minutely, and guilt pierces through Sena’s heart.

“About earlier,” Sena starts, thinking back to his suggestive closeness at the Kingdom League booth.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dark Knight cuts in. “I know that you’re here on behalf of Deimon. Whatever you say or do will be complicated by the roles we play.”

“I’m just—I’m sorry.”

“We can talk more during the interview.” Dark Knight opens the door. “I only came to fetch you for your demonstration.”

Sena obliges, and exits the bathroom. They walk back to the combat arena with Dark Knight escorting him. There’s one person queued before Sena’s turn when they arrive. Sena spends the next few minutes doing a light warm up and sneaking nervous glances at the admins.

He walks onto the stage. The lights are brighter and hotter than he had anticipated. He stares out into the sea of faces. The crowd seems to have grown. Guts is already waiting for him, stretching her arms out.

“Um… ah… my name is Eventide,” Sena says. The name still feels funny on his tongue.

“Let’s go Even Time!!!” Monta shouts from the stands.

“Uh, right. Thank you. Um, I’m applying to the Kingdom League, Bloodstone Association, and Oceans United.” Sena bows.

“I gotta say this is the most unorthodox demo we’ve had in intern history,” Guts says. She tightens her focus band around her forehead. “This takes guts! You’re already winning brownie points for Bloodstone.”

Sena had thought that the Hero Center would deny this demo request, but apparently not. Guts’ fighting aura grows by the second, and Sena’s having second thoughts about this whole thing.

“You ready?” She bounces lightly on the balls of her feet, sneakers tapping lightly against the reinforced mat.

“P-Please treat me favorably,” Sena says, cursing Hiruma in his mind. He activates his foresight, already testing out paths for what Guts’ movements will be.

The timer starts, and Guts darts forward. Tight and explosive, she shoots out a straight-right punch that Sena dodges by centimeters. She uses her inertia to strike with a roundhouse kick that just barely misses again.

“Interesting!” Guts says after another punch scarcely avoids hitting Sena in the liver. She grins, delighted.

Meanwhile, Sena is fearing for his life. She’s not playing around with her strikes. Sena hears each punch and kick wiz past him. The downward aerial kick she delivers cracks the ground. Sena turns to avoid a flying knee. Guts is amped up as someone who loves fighting, but Sena is out of his element. His preferred style of fighting is from the shadows, not in the middle of a fighting stage with an audience. Time flies by, and before he knows it, it’s been four minutes of Guts’ never-ending barrage. Guts continues throwing bombs, viciously chasing after him, testing his supposed ability with strike after strike. The timer is down to the last fifteen seconds, and Guts hasn’t slowed down one bit nor has she connected once. Sena knows that isn’t enough. He has to seal the deal and demonstrate he can go on offense as well. He steps inside of Guts’ next punch using his superior speed and answers with his own counter to her chin, sending her stumbling back. Next, he—

“Kobayakawa Sena please come to the main lobby. Your party is waiting for you. Kobayakawa Sena, to the main lobby please. Thank you.”

A fist connects with Sena’s temple. He staggers back, barely righting himself before the timer reaches zero.

The crowd is stunned silent. A pin could be heard dropping.

“I’ve never landed less than one hundred and eighty significant strikes in a fight,” Guts says. She jostles Sena in a half-hug. “You got one hell of a right hook! I’m gonna train even harder. Let’s have a rematch soon! Now off to medical you go.”

Sena walks off the stage with shaking legs. It takes him a moment to realize he’s _giddy_ at her praise. Guts is one of the best melee fighters in the _world_ , and she complimented _him_. The medical team fuss over his head, sure that Guts left some sort of injury, but find nothing except for a minor headache and let him go after giving him some mild painkillers and specialty energy bars.

Monta eyes him warily when he sits back down with the audience.

“What did you think?” Sena asks.

“Well, I guess you’re alright.”

“Oh.”

“I’m kidding, you’re a beast!” Monta attempts giving Sena a noogie but stops when his shoulder pain flares up. “‘Cept when you got nailed at the end. Sorry for laughing at that by the way.”

“I-It happens when I get distracted,” Sena says with a light laugh. “I’m going to the restroom real quick. I’ll be back.”

“Cool, lemme come with.”

“Uh,” Sena worries his lip. “It, uh, maybe, uh.”

“Oh, I see, I see.” Monta nods understandingly. “You gotta shit. Say no more, man. Our friendship ain’t that strong.”

“Uh, thank you for being so. Understanding.”

“Take your time. The last thing you wanna do is strain and take yourself out of the competition like that.”

“Right…”

Sena maintains a normal walking pace until Monta’s out of his sight before running to the bathroom and changing out of his hero costume. He stuffs everything back into his backpack, careful to clean up the puddles left after washing off the eye black, and heads to the main lobby.

Suzuna spots him first.

“Hey! Sena! Over here!” Suzuna bounces from the other side of the lobby, skating his way. “I’m going to kill you!” she says, smile showing all of her teeth.

“What? Wait—Suzuna, please, I’m so young!”

“You’re older than I am!” Suzuna’s fake anger melts and reveals worried eyes when she breaks in front of him. She hugs Sena tightly. “I was honestly about to call the police or one of the search and rescue heroes. I was _this_ close to reporting you missing.”

“Well you did call me on the speakers as if I was a lost child…”

“You were a lost child. Like, where were you? You usually send me a text saying if you’re busy.”

“I’m sorry. I… I lost track of time.”

“Oh?” Suzuna says, tone signaling her interest has been caught.

“Before you say anything, no, I didn’t get any offers.”

“Oh…” Suzuna taps her chin. “It’s not that big of a deal. Most people don’t get offers. I probably won’t make it to the next stage, either. That’s why I called you, so we could head out.”

“Maybe we should wait. Just in case?”

Suzuna tries to hide a smile. “I mean, I guess, since you insist, we can wait a bit. Fill me in on everything I missed! What kept you busy this whole time?”

“Oh, uh… it’s kinda boring, you don’t want to hear that.”

“We got all the time in the world! Or until they post the results.”

Sena groans before telling her a very skimmed, heavily edited, mostly fibbed version of what happened to him.

Suzuna doesn’t buy it, evident by her raised eyebrows. She can’t get a question out before the results pop up on the screens. They rush over, and there is her name on the list of applicants that will compete for the few intern spots in HQ’s intelligence department.

“I totally am dreaming,” Suzuna whispers almost to herself.

(Suzuna working at HQ. Seijuro and Sena working at a hero agency. Seijuro and Sena know about each other and about Suzuna, but Suzuna doesn’t know about them. But if (when) she works at HQ, she’ll be in the best place to draw her conclusions and find out the truth.)

“It’s real alright,” Sena murmurs.

“Oh, look,” Suzuna points to a different screen. “The heroic’s results are up, too! Wow, someone got an interview spot for the top three agencies.”

Monta’s name is listed under Bloodstone’s section. Sena wishes him luck silently.

Sena’s phone chirps, showing that he has seven interview options. He swallows. This isn’t a game, and it’s no longer fun. Just one day of keeping up pretenses has sapped him of energy. He doesn’t want to continue, but what choice does he really have? He has a role to play no matter how much he may dislike it. Sena clicks ‘accept’ on only one agency: the Kingdom League.

“When’s your next stage?” Sena asks innocently.

“Oh god, it’s in fifteen minutes.” Suzuna smooths her hair, an anxious tick. “Sena, you don’t have to wait for me to finish. I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

“I do have a couple things to finish up for school but…”

“I’ll be fine! We can meet up for dinner if you’re up for it!”

“That sounds good,” Sena says. “I’ll see you then. Good luck!”

“You’re a gem, Sena!” Suzuna says as she makes her way to another building.

Sena watches her go, thinks of the what ifs. If she’s a part of HQ, then that makes them enemies. The Captain has attacked Hero HQ before. Would Sena be able to go through with the Captain’s commands if it were against Suzuna?

He sneaks into the desolate bathroom again and changes back into Eventide. He’s been lucky not having been caught yet, though now the chances are slim since the crowd has dissipated. His reflection stares back at him unhappily. Even after eating two energy bars, he doesn’t feel better.

Sena follows a map to a small conference room. There’s a long desk in the middle. On the other side of the desk is Dark Knight. Next to him is Archangel with a stack of paperwork. Not even the Number One and Number Two heroes can make the meeting look anything other than mundane.

_Name: Archangel_

_Current rank: 1 (No change)_

_Bio: Celestial powers, including her angelic sonic cry and a perpetually-flaming sword._

_Fun fact: Holds the longest record for consecutive weeks as the Number One Hero (seven weeks)!_

“Hello, Eventide,” Archangel says. She’s wearing her signature white peplos under her breastplate. She pushes her visor back against her hair like a headband and smiles gently at Sena. Her eyes are kind, intelligent; what Sena would expect a mother’s eyes to look like. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“H-Hello.” Sena presses his back against the door. He didn’t expect her to be here.

“I hope I didn’t surprise you,” she says. “Please take a seat. We have a few things to discuss.”

Sena sits down, stiff as a board. He’s thankful the goggles hide his eyes as they shift back and forth from Archangel to Dark Knight. He’s never been in the same room as both of them without it coming to violence.

“Firstly, congratulations on making it to the interview portion!” Archangel says.

“Congratulations,” Dark Knight says, voice monotone.

“We were very impressed by your performance against Guts. I was a tad nervous you might not accept our interview offer, but I’m glad to see you here.”

“We would like to officially offer you the heroic’s intern position at the Kingdom League,” Dark Knight says. He sounds like he’s reading off of a script. “We see great potential in you. We believe we can help guide you through the twisting path it is to become a hero to the people of Japan.”

“Now, before you make your decision, we want to go over a few of the details.” Archangel slides over a folder. “If you flip to the first page, you’ll find the basic facts about your internship. Hourly wage, optional on-sight housing, a meal plan, and the hours you would be expected to work. Of course, our agency will keep your identity a secret since you are a masked hero. Only our Hero HQ liaison will know any identifying information, which happens to be me in this case.”

Sena reads over the information. His heart is racing. He’s so close to his goal. “W-What do you mean about my identity, exactly?”

“Well, we do have to collect your fingerprints,” Archangel says. “I can assure you that information is extremely secure in HQ’s database and only accessible to people with the appropriate clearance.”

Sena’s eyes dart to Dark Knight. Does that mean she would have access to Seijuro’s identity as well? How much does Archangel truly know? He wishes he had Musashi’s voice in his ear, telling him what to do in his calm manner. He doesn’t want to risk using his futuresight. He’s still recovering from the earlier use.

“I see.” Sena tries to sound reassured. Archangel is Japan’s sweetheart and HQ’s darling. If there is anyone he should trust, it should be her.

“Ah, there is one last detail.” Archangel’s tone is apologetic, her lovely face falling into a wince. “There are some unfortunate rumors we would like to address.”

“Rumors?” Sena asks, voice pitched high.

“Yes. It seems that the media has…” She searches for the right word. “They’ve reached some hurtful conclusions about Dark Knight and yourself. It’s not in the mainstream media, but it has the potential to truly hurt both of your images should it get there. The rumors seems to think that Dark Knight had some sort of inappropriate conduct regarding you.”

“Oh. Yes. _That_ ,” Sena says. His cheeks grow hot.

“It’s obviously false,” Archangel insists, quick to defend them. She sends Dark Knight a reassuring look. “However, we would like to take this opportunity to rectify these misconceptions before they grow legs.”

“I understand.”

“That’s good to hear. We’ll release a few details about you to… clear things up should you accept the position with us. Just your age and schooling career, only things on your file in the hero database.”

Sena nods, guilt eating at him. _Right. There’s people out there that think Dark Knight committed statutory rape. All thanks to me._

“So, with that being said.” Archangel reaches over the table and flips to the end of the packet. “This is a standard NDA, should you accept our offer. So what do you say, Eventide? Any questions?”

Dark Knight has not moved a muscle since the beginning, but Sena feels his eyes like weights on his shoulders. Sena’s done more damage to Dark Knight in a week than he has since he first started working for Hiruma.

“N-none from me. Um, thank you for offering me this position. I look forward to working with you both.” Sena takes the pen she offers.

There’s no backing down. He’s committed to the lie. He signs.

“Ah, that’s great!” Archangel beams. “Congratulations again! I have some more business to attend to, so Dark Knight will carry out the rest of the onboarding. It’s just a few behavioral questions. We’re very excited to have you with us, Eventide!” She excuses herself then from the room, leaving just Dark Knight and Sena in the room.

“Dark Knight…” What is there to say? His apologies mean nothing to Seijuro.

“Congratulations on your position.” Dark Knight takes out a pen, flips a page. “We will now commence your onboarding. These behavioral questions will serve to give us a better understanding of you as a hero and coworker. Your answers are being recorded.”

Dark Knight goes down the list of behavioral questions. They’re simple at first but slowly become more serious ethical dilemmas when out on the field. What limits should be observed when protecting the community? Would Sena ever deny a citizen protection? In case of an emergency, would he try to save a younger citizen or an older one, everything else being equal? How does he feel working with heroes who rely on mecha versus heroes born with supernatural abilities? Has Sena ever lost control of his enhanced strength? What would cause him to strike with killing intent? If someone was in a situation where their rescue was impossible, would he inform them or lie?

Sena had covered questions like this with Tsuyumine. Briefly. He ends up answering most of them honestly, unable to recall Tsuyumine’s guidance.

“If they asked, I would try to reassure them, but… I wouldn’t tell them.” Sena says. “I would want their last moments to be as comfortable as possible even if that means lying to them. I think that would do the greatest good for them.”

Dark Knight finishes writing a note. He leans forward. Sena would do anything to be able to see his eyes, to know what he’s thinking. “Would you ever lie to me?”

Sena blinks. This is the first question to be directed at a specific person and not a situation. He worries at his bottom lip. “I mean I-I don’t want to. But, if the situation called for it. Sometimes it’s unavoidable.” Sena stares the table’s glossy surface. “Would you lie to me?”

“No,” Seijuro says immediately, voice pitched low. It sends a shiver down Sena’s spine. “It’s counterproductive to hide anything. If we are to make our agreement work, we must be on the same page.”

“Should we even be t-talking about _that_ now?” Sena asks, incredulous. “Here of all places?”

“We may talk freely now, but we do not have long.” Seijuro leans even closer. His voice is lower. Caution and reluctance are clear in his tone. “There is more to your hire than what Archangel said.”

Sena can’t deny how easy everything was. KL practically welcomed him with open arms. He licks his lips. “Wasn’t that because of the rumors? I thought you—they just wanted to correct that?”

“That is what I was told when Archangel and I met to prepare for this. That is also how the rest of Kingdom was briefed. However, your background check flagged. You shouldn’t have even been allowed to apply.”

“What? The Captain wouldn’t slip up like that.” Sena frowns at the implication. “It was on purpose, then.”

Seijuro nods. “That is my theory as well. Archangel had to submit an appeal request. There is a paper trail now. Do you have more information?”

“I didn’t even know I’d be doing this until a few days ago. The Captain…” Sena words catch in his throat. He’s in an HQ building about to disclose information to his greatest enemy. There could be other heroes listening in, ready to capture him once he’s divulged the Captain’s plans. Sena’s in too deep. He has no choice. At least it’s Dark Knight he has to face the unknown with. He swallows thickly. “The Captain wants blackmail material and meta information. He wants to know what HQ and other hero agencies know about Deimon.”

“Is that is?” Dark Knight asks.

“I think so. I’m always the last to know anything,” Sena says and rubs his hair under his hood. “I’m just…”

“Just a pawn to be used.” Dark Knight says, so low Sena has to use his augmented hearing to pick it up. It almost sounds like a bitter reminder. Dark Knight adds in a clearer manner, “That doesn’t explain the database slip.”

“That’s all I know,” Sena earnestly says.

Seijuro stares at Sena. Sena would do anything to see his eyes, to get a hint of what Dark Knight is thinking. “I believe you,” Seijuro says after the pause. He straightens in his chair and gathers the paperwork.

Sena’s face flushes warm. He hadn’t been aware of how close they had gotten.

“Um, how much longer can we, uh, you know?”

“Not much longer.”

Sena’s words rush out of him before he can think twice. “I-I never got to thank you for the f-frame. So, uh, yeah. Just—thank you. Um… it looks. Nice.” Sena adds quietly, “I like it.”

Dark Knight pauses organizing his paperwork. Seijuro shakes his head the slightest bit, signaling to Sena to exercise caution with what he says. They can be overheard now. “You’re welcome,” Dark Knight says loudly enough to startle Sena. “If you have no more questions, then this is the end of your first onboarding meeting. We will be sending you more information regarding your hire date and schedule. Thank you and once again congratulations.”

They shake hands. Seijuro walks Sena back to the main lobby which is practically deserted. It’s hard not to fall into the lie when it’s just the two of them in their hero costumes. But Sena forces himself to remember the truth even through his mental exhaustion. No matter what role he has to play for the Kingdom League, no matter what HQ expects of him, there is no hiding what Seijuro and Sena are.

“Suzuna, how’d it go?” Sena asks, sliding into a booth across from her later that evening.

“I got an offer!” Suzuna beams.

“At HQ? That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”

“That means a lot. God, I’m so tired though. After the cognitive test were a bunch of technical applications and questions. I talked with like three director big shots. They were pretty nice though. How’d your studying go? Did you finish your homework?”

“Almost, still got a bit left.” Homework is the last thing on Sena’s mind. He sips his water while Suzuna starts grilling pork belly. He lies to Suzuna often. He hates how easy it’s become, how vital it is to maintain their friendship.

Suzuna and Sena are best friends. Nothing more.

Despite how many times Seijuro and Sena have fought, he’s never lied to Dark Knight. He’s never had a reason to lie. Seijuro and Sena are sworn enemies.

_(Sena has followed Seijuro’s meteoritic rise since the beginning.)_

_(…what they share now, their terrible secret…)_

Hero and villain.

_(…something flutters in Sena’s stomach anyway.)_

_(Dark Knight… is kind of good looking…)_

Nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW my head cannon for Guts hero costume is just her outfit from the manga except with elbow and knee padding LOL. I totally picture Sena's supersuit as like spidergwens too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seijuro with _piercings_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30K in and things are starting to move. Why am I like this LOL. HOWEVER, it's been 30K words of Sena thinking of nothing except Shin so I would say the subconscious pining is there. I think this mini "arc" will last maybe 3 chapters which officially means, I have no idea how long this fic will be.

Suzuna’s cheery voice is the only thing keeping Sena afloat. Every ounce of exhaustion needles its way into his bones. It’s a preemptive tiredness for what’s to come. This Campaign will be the most dangerous mission he’s ever had to do. He’ll be working with the enemy, and he won’t be able to contact anyone from Deimon until it’s over. It would be too dangerous to send out any signals directly from the Kingdom’s headquarters even with Musashi’s tech. He never realized how much he depended on the Captain’s leadership to steady him until he didn’t have it.

“You wanna come in for a bit? Warm up?” Suzuna asks once they reach her apartment after dinner. “Weather’s getting cold.”

“Sure,” Sena says.

Suzuna makes them tea while Sena sits on the couch. He looks arounds for signs of Seijuro. Admittedly, he’s not sure what he’s looking for. What kind of signs would Seijuro even leave? He seems like a tidy person who would clean up after himself. But there’s no couch cushion out of place, no dishes in the sink, no fingerprints on the glass coffee table, no shoes haphazardly taken off at the front door except for Suzuna’s and his. How long does Seijuro even spend here?

“Is your brother home?” Sena asks. 

“No,” Suzuna says, still tinkering in the kitchen. “He’s been out for a few days.”

At least with Seijuro out, it’ll make this easier. One last lie. The last for the day, and hopefully the last to Suzuna for a while.

“Hey, Suzuna?”

“What’s up?” Suzuna carries two mugs and sets them on coasters.

“I actually did get an offer from the intern fair today.”

“Sena, oh my god!” Suzuna bombards him with a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could have gotten soju to celebrate!”

“Ah, we’re both underage.”

“I would have made Seijuro get it.”

“Eh? Really?” Sena can’t picture the Hero of Honor condoning underage drinking.

“Meh, he hasn’t yet, but I’m wearing him down. Now spill. Who, what, where, when.”

The lie comes so easily then. It’s the one thing he practiced until he could say it backwards, even under duress or pressure. An internship to the business side of heroics. Hero agencies _are_ businesses after all. They made him sign an NDA, so he can’t say which agency. It will be taking all his time, and he will be deferring classes for the semester. Don’t worry, the agency will reimburse his classes, and they won’t count as drops due to the special circumstances.

“But I’ll be moving to the country to work for them. I don’t think I’ll be visiting for a while.”

“Well, it’s a really good opportunity for you,” Suzuna says into her tea. “I’m glad you took it. I can’t believe we won’t be seeing each other as often, though.”

“It’s not ideal, but I really can’t turn it down.”

Suzuna’s mouth twitches into a frown. Her eyes become sharp and inquisitive. “You would tell me if something was wrong. Right?”

“O-Of course.”

“And _nothing_ is wrong, is it? You’re…” Suzuna analyzes his face. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“It’s nothing like that,” Sena insists and forces a laugh. “I’m really excited to work at the agency. They’re small, but promising. I’m going to learn a lot.”

Suzuna relaxes her shoulders and laughs with him. “Just making sure. Man, I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s only for a little bit.” Sena finishes his drink and sets it back down. “I’m going to head back before the cold really hits. Thank you for the tea.”

He slips on his shoes, and they exchange goodbyes. Suzuna waves before closing the door behind him. He doesn’t want to idle in case he breaks character in front of Suzuna. He barely remembers the trip home, only the realizing he’s inside once he’s no longer freezing. He hates the cold.

He doesn’t have much in the way to pack. Underwear, workout clothes, cold weather gear, toiletries. He only has the one supersuit which means frequent washings. Laptop, chargers. Maybe he can come back for his food later. Suzuna just bought groceries for him, and there’s still a few days’ worth left. He packs snacks. And his favorite pillow.

Before he can think too deeply into it, he packs Dark Knight’s autograph inside the pillow case.

He sits on his mattress to steady himself. Tomorrow he will be a hero. He’ll be working _with_ Dark Knight for the first time. Sharing the same office space, eating lunch together, patrolling next to each other, fighting side by side. They’ll be partners. The thought makes his heart twist happily.

. . .

_Re: Re: Your official start day with the Kingdom League_

**_Kingdom League_ ** _< hr_interns@kingdomleague.com>_

_To: You_

_CC: Dark Knight, Archangel_

_Hi Eventide,_

_Apologies for the late notice. Just a quick request, please use the front entrance tomorrow when you reach our campus. Dark Knight will see that you get settled before giving you a tour. Once again, congratulations on your new position._

_Thank you,_

**_Kingdom League Intern Program_ **

. . .

Sena asks the cab to stop half a block away from the Kingdom League’s building. He normally would have taken public transport, or just run, but the Kingdom paid for him to be picked up and dropped off, and who was he to say no?

Soon enough, he starts regretting not being dropped off directly. There’s a mob of reporters at the gate. They’re on him before Sena can do anything else. They’re shoved all the way up to him, _touching_ him in waves of overstepping strangers, pawing at him, grabbing his luggage, tugging on his hood. Microphones are shoved into his face. All he sees are hungry, opportunistic faces. Their questions overlap, jumbling together into flustering gibberish.

“Hey! Smile! Show us your smile!”

“Um…”

“What kind of girls are you into?”

“Um—“

“Who scouted you? Why did you turn down Oceans United and Bloodstone? Are you feuding against them?”

“Eh…?”

“Show us your face! Do you really look like Clint Eastwood?”

“Ah, no—“

“Where is your hero suit from? Who’s the designer?”

“Please, I’m just trying to—“

“Are the rumors true that you’re dating Golden Era?”

“E-Excuse me?!”

“Show us your face!”

“Listen, I—“

“Smile! You’re not smiling!”

“I—“

“It’s Dark Knight! Dark Knight, look over here!”

Dark Knight parts through the mob of paparazzi like he has a protective bubble around him. The reporters don’t dare get any closer, just extend their cameras and recorders trying to get a usable sound bite.

“Clear out,” Dark Knight says, voice stern. He extends an arm to keep the crowd at bay and guides Sena with his other hand. Sena can feel the firm pressure along his lower back. It’s the only thing he can seem to think about. “We’ve already released information on our intern. There is nothing more to say at this moment. This way,” he says to Sena gruffly.

The mob follows them up to the lobby doors, breathing against the windows, snapping photos like crazy. Whenever Sena turns to them, they work themselves into a frenzy, their shouts heard through the reinforced glass. The reporters know better than to go inside.

Sena already feels safer inside the large lobby. The main desk has two receptionists and a security guard. One of the receptionists’ eyes flash with numbers. The other one has two radio antennas sticking out of his forehead. The security guard has sharp canines poking out past her glossed lips. The Kingdom League is one of the rare agencies that only employs people with superpowers. Being one of the largest and most respected hero agencies in the entire world allows for them to be highly selective.

“Troublesome,” Dark Knight says. He talks to the receptionist with the glowing eyes. Moments later, the glass dims and becomes a one-way window if the reporters trying to squint through the pane are any indication.

“You’re late,” Dark Knight says to Sena. He crosses his arms. His hero costume resembles combat fatigues more than his usual eponymous gear. Sena feels self-conscious in his supersuit. The muted mauve color shouldn’t stick out, but he’s peacocking in comparison to everyone else. No wonder the media zeroed in on him.

“Sorry,” Sena says. “I got swarmed.”

“Yes. The Kingdom is being heavy handed with their preventative actions.”

“Does that mean that you called them?” Sena’s boots tap against the granite floors as he trails after Dark Knight.

“Not personally,” Dark Knight says. “Our public relations department is—proactive. Stay away from them.” He points to hallways that branch from the lobby. “The cafeteria and the gym. You will have access to both during your stay. Most of the conference rooms are on this floor as well.”

“Right, the tour,” Sena says like he doesn’t already have the layout memorized.

He keeps up with Seijuro’s pace as they exit the main building. Behind it is a compact housing complex made of apartments. They pass several apartments before settling on one in the middle.

“This will be your housing for the foreseeable future.” He hands Sena a fob to unlock apartment forty. “These rooms serve as temporary lodging for situations such as yourself, or when we need to stay late and finish a case.”

Sena steps inside, pleasantly surprised. The entire back wall is glass and looks out to a small green space shared by the housing cluster. There’s a rich rose garden that must be the work of Inari. The compound is entirely walled in by a towering fence which means there’s very little risk of reporters trying to sneak onto the compound. 

“This is nice.” Sena drops his bags off on the bed, taking a few things out and setting them away. “Way better than the university dorms. I could have done without the media frenzy.”

“Why didn’t you use your powers?”

“Like to fight back?”

“Not a physical altercation, but using your speed to avoid them.”

Sena toys with the object in his hands. “It’s true that I could have run away from them, but they were all really close. I didn’t want to hurt any of them accidentally. I don’t like using my powers unless I have to.”

“They were making you uncomfortable.”

“That’s a little my fault.” Sena rubs the back of his head bashfully. “I’ve never been around that many people before except in classes. Are they always so pushy?”

“Only to those who they think are weak willed.”

“I’m w-weak willed?”

“That is yet to be determined,” Dark Knight says.

Sena leans against his bed. “Are we… can we talk right now?”

“The apartments are not wired to protect the privacy of the inhabitants.”

“How long do you think this will last?” Sena asks quietly.

“We will play this charade as long as it takes.”

Sena doesn’t feel reassured. He feels guilty. Deimon can only benefit from this. If it’s revealed that a villain infiltrated a professional hero agency, there won’t be a way for the Kingdom League to save face. The Kingdom has so much to lose. _Seijuro_ has so much to lose.

“Is anyone suspicious of me?” Sena asks.

“No one has made a connection with you and Deimon. Some have brought up other—thoughts, but nothing of consequence.”

“What are they saying?” Sena bites at his lip. He’s a people pleaser and doesn’t like the thought of colleagues disliking him already.

“Baseless guesswork. Some seem to think that—” Seijuro’s head shifts to look past Sena’s shoulder. His voice lowers. “You brought it here,” Seijuro says.

Sena follows Seijuro’s line of sight. It lands on the autograph Sena just placed on the nightstand without a second thought.

Sena shoves it under his pillow and flings his clothes into drawers blindly as a distraction. A pair of underwear goes rogue and lands at Seijuro’s feet.

“Hm,” Seijuro grunts again before turning sharply out of the room. “I’ll wait outside.”

“Actually I’m all done!” Sena stumbles out of the door and locks it. “Please, let’s go one with the rest of the tour and pretend that never happened.”

“Right,” Dark Knight says and clears his throat. “This was not the most optimal start to the day, but as I said. The agency is being heavy handed about your arrival.”

Once Dark Knight and he make the trek back, they take the stairs on their way to the top floor.

“You’ve seen the first floor,” Dark Knight says. “Locker rooms are in the gym. Part of the second floor is medical. The next few floors are mainly corporate. R&D, marketing, HR, finance, operations, PR. Basement level is for training. Questions?”

“Why should I avoid PR?”

“They are far too good at their job.” When they reach the top flight, Dark Knight gives the slightest weary sigh, barely audible through his mask. “We have a serious briefing today. We’ll be working together, but I’m not sure what it entails yet.”

“They’re going to trust me with actual cases?” A dopey smile spreads on Sena’s face. Working actual cases with real professional heroes. Almost like it’s real.

“They don’t know what I know. All they’ve seen is that you’re strong and easy to work with.”

_You think I’m strong? You think we can work together easily?_ Instead, Sena asks in his most respectful tone: “Why did you agree?”

“It’s not my place to question the leadership.”

With a heavy silence, the two finally make it to the conference room. Sena’s heart starts beating faster, excited and nervous in equal measures. The entire Kingdom is present, sitting around the oblong conference table.

_I don’t really belong here_ , Sena thinks, subconsciously hiding behind Dark Knight.

“Welcome,” Archangel says as she stands up. “I think there’s a few people you haven’t met yet, Eventide. Would you like to introduce yourself?”

“S-Sure. Hello everybody,” Sena says, unable to meet anyone’s eye. “Um. My name is… Eventide. You know that already… I’m excited to work with everyone.”

“Put a little more life into it,” Golden Era teases good naturedly. He looks like he just stepped out of a modelling shoot with his fashionably styled curls and fitted hero suit. He shoots a wink at Sena.

“I think he did fine,” Inari says, quietly. She smiles, her face lighting up even under her Columbina half mask. She’s like a drop of sunshine. Suzuna would be dying if she were here. “We’re happy to have you here.”

_Name: Inari_

_Current rank: 07_

_Bio: Keen intellect, enhanced physical abilities, and can grow and control roses._

_Fun fact: She is the youngest hero within the top ten and as such is seen as the end cap of the Golden Cohort._

“Nice to meet you,” Dyadic says, taking his purple shades off. Underneath the monk robe loose around his shoulders, one of his arms is in a sling. “I hope we work together before your internship ends.”

_Name: Dyadic_

_Current rank: 09_

_Bio: When injured, Dyadic’s second personality takes control and with it, his superhuman physical abilities and godlike reflexes come into play._

_Fun fact: Due to the nature of is superpower, Dyadic has already set the record for most injuries in a professional hero career despite barely being active for 3 years!_

Sena squirms in his seat between Dark Knight and Inari. He swears Inari keeps looking at him. At the front, Archangel goes through slides of several missions the agency is currently working on aside from what they find on their daily patrols. Sena listens carefully since Hiruma also has interest in some of the investigations. Dyadic is still on desk duty while he recovers from his previous mission. Golden Era is assigned as security detail to delegates visiting Japan. Inari is given a serial killer case to work in tandem with federal investigators.

Which leaves Seijuro and Sena.

“As most of you know,” Archangel says. “We’ve been investigating the Maruko Family for a few years now.” The next slide shows an elegant family portrait: father, mother, and son. “Yuudai Maruko used to have close ties with the mafia. His son, Reiji Maruko, is poised to take over the family business.”

The presentation shows a rather unbecoming photograph of Reiji Maruko. He’s a gangly young adult with stringy hair drowning in an ill-fitting suit. How cruel the media can be.

“They will be hosting an event to celebrate,” Archangel continues. “Several shady business people will be attending. Dark Knight, Eventide. You both will be going undercover to make sure nothing untoward happens.”

Sena freezes in his seat at the word ‘undercover’. Undercover means no supersuit. Undercover means no goggles, or masks, or anything to hide behind.

“Is that wise?” Dark Knight asks, tone neutral.

“It’s the best option we have. Takeru, Unsui, Karin, and I are all unmasked. Going undercover would be much more difficult if not impossible.”

“I would volunteer if not for my injury,” Dyadic says.

“This is the money maker,” Golden Era gestures to his face, trying to keep the mood light. “You know I can’t hide it.”

“This is not exactly a laughing matter,” Seijuro says. “It is also a higher level mission than the clearance level interns are given.”

Sena peeks at Dark Knight. His hands are clenched tightly into fists. Seijuro must want to scream that they would be giving away valuable information to a villain, practically hand-delivering it to the Captain himself.

“That is a valid concern,” Archangel says. “However, you both are suited for undercover work best. You have an amazing skill at reading body language. Eventide has augmented hearing, and he’s more than proven himself to be capable. I’ve already talked with risk management about it, and they’ve cleared it.”

“I understand,” Dark Knight says. His head is slightly bowed, conceding to her leadership.

“Eventide, I know this would be asking a lot from you. Are you up to the challenge?”

“If that’s where you need me, then yes,” Sena says, voice quiet but sure.

“Thank you,” Archangel says, sounding like she means it. “The mission will go on as stated. The event is tonight.”

“T-Tonight?” Sena squeaks.

“That is insufficient preparatory time,” Dark Knight says.

“Yes, _tonight_. Originally we weren’t going to send anyone, but certain things have come to light. Dyadic will be handling your patrols in the meantime. You’ll have gear to pick up from R&D after your briefing later today.”

The meeting lasts another few minutes before they’re all released back to their duties. Sena follows Dark Knight to his office like a duckling.

Seijuro’s office is no different than his apartment. Tidy, organized, blank. There’s stacks of papers, files, folders, and tickets next to Seijuro’s ancient desk top, but there are no personal touches. Nothing here could be used to track down his identity. Sena understands. Like the mask, it’s another layer of protection.

Seijuro pulls up a chair for Sena to sit.

“Our regular shift is 6:00 pm and end at 4:00 am,” Seijuro says. “I would suggest preparing for tonight’s mission by eating well and resting. We’ll be working late into the night. I need to finish up some reports, so you are free to do as you please until our mission.”

“Wait, isn’t there anything I can help with?”

“I don’t want—” Seijuro catches himself and controls his tone. “Your help is appreciated,” he amends, in case anyone overhears them. He didn’t close the office door behind them. “But it is unneeded at the moment.”

Sena flinches. He should have known better than to think Seijuro would trust him with confidential matters. They know each other’s identity, but it doesn’t mean anything to Seijuro. It shouldn’t mean anything to Sena, either. And yet, Sena feels that familiar twist in his heart. He’s admired Dark Knight for so long, how could he help but be excited to finally work with him? Being rejected by his idol is harsh.

“Are you sure?” Sena tries again. “I’m—I’m a fast typer. I can analyze data. I can grab coffee.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a sidekick says from the door. “Dark Knight, I have your morning readings, and the group is ready for the crime reports.”

“Thank you.” Seijuro walks over to collect the reports. “I’ll be at the meeting shortly.”

“Is that…?” The sidekick points to Sena. “Are you the new intern? Eventide?”

“Yes, I’ll be working with Dark Knight during the program.”

“Cool,” they say. “How you liking it so far?”

Sena glances at Seijuro. “Yeah, I like it. I just started though.”

“You coming to the meeting?”

“No, he is not,” Dark Knight cuts in. His body shifts to partially obscure Sena. “We’re working on a case later that he needs to prepare for.”

“Gotcha. Well, we’ll be waiting in room B. Later, Eventide.”

“You are dismissed until our mission,” Seijuro says to Sena. He stands by the door as Sena exits. “R&D will contact you for our briefing. Stay out of trouble until then.”

. . .

Sena draws the curtains shut to his housing unit while he gets ready. It’s almost 6:00 pm. He grabbed a late lunch at the cafeteria, and spent the rest of the day pacing out in the garden until he couldn’t put off getting ready any longer.

Though the mask only covers half his face, it changes his bone structure with fillers subtly added to it. R&D did something to his hair so it’s less messy and sweeps across his face. The one glaring problem is that his eyes are visible, lightened to an artificial pale yellow. He won’t be able to use his foresight at all in the mission. Sena can’t blame R&D. As far as they know, he doesn’t have a giveaway when using his superpowers.

He slips into the black suit R&D designed for him and tucks his goggles into a pocket, just in case. The suit is reinforced to withstand puncture trauma, is fire and electrical resistant, and also the nicest piece of clothing Sena has ever worn. This mission requires a certain ‘look’ since the guests are all socialites. The suit pads him on the shoulders and is cut to make his legs look longer. Vaguely handsome to the passing eye but mostly unremarkable. Staring at himself in the mirror, Sena barely recognizes himself. R&D is good.

“ _Do you copy, Chrome_?” Seijuro’s voice whispers into his ear. It startles Sena.

“Yes, um, loud and clear, Carbon. How am I coming across?”

“ _Nervous_.”

“S-Sounds about right.”

“ _Are you ready to leave_?”

“As I’ll ever be. Where are we meeting? Wait, I hear you outside.”

“ _You can already hear my voice?_ ”

“I can hear your footsteps,” Sena admits. “I kind of know your gait.”

If Sena hadn’t known it was Seijuro walking up to meet him outside his apartment, he wouldn’t have recognized him.

Seijuro’s hair is black and gelled back. He has multiple piercings in both ears. Black eyes peer out from his mask. Even with the suit tailored to slope his shoulders and add weight around his middle, his physique is still powerful. While still intimidating, he looks less like an immediate threat. No longer a predator on the hunt, but one lounging out of the heat of the sun.

“That’s—they—you,” Sena can’t get a word out. He’s completely tongue tied. Seijuro looks like himself, yet nothing like himself. Sena’s mind doesn’t want to accept the person before him _is_ Seijuro. With piercings. He’s oddly fixated on the studs and industrial bars and spikes. It disguises his com piece, but still. Seijuro with _piercings_.

“As long as the disguise works,” Seijuro says as they walk out of the compound. The evening is cold and windy, but the suits hold up to the weather. “I do not have a problem with how ridiculous I look.”

“Ridiculous?” Sena wouldn’t use that word to describe Seijuro. “No, you look—good. But different. But you also look good when you’re yourself. Uh.” Sena screams internally.

Seijuro’s brows furrow. “Will you be like this during the mission?”

“Like what?”

“Nothing. Be careful who you talk to during the mission. Not everyone has good intentions.”

“I can defend myself.”

That seems to stop Seijuro short. He blinks, shakes his head as if to clear his mind. “Right. Of course.”

At the front of the building is a sleek black car, non-descript but still luxurious.

“Follow my lead when we get there,” Dark Knight says. “It begins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shin hiding Sena from prying eyes, Shin being concerned about Sena's naivete in the crowd they'll be heading into. Almost as if Shin reluctantly.... cares..............................


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re my date, remember? I can’t leave you alone in good conscious. What if someone tries stealing you away?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: heavily suggestive non-con themes but nothing explicit.
> 
> This chapter was just so........ hard to write bc it's almost all plot (which is why it's on the shorter side). Next chapter will mostly wrap this up, and it'll have lots of ShinSena UST hehehe. Just gotta get through the Sena!whump first.

The Maruko mansion stands like a jewel among rolling countryside hills, every window brightly lit and rolling search lights shining against the dark night at the entrance like twin beacons.

Seijuro hands the keys off to the valet once they reach the driveway. Seijuro is the picture of ease. He fits in with the other guests still trickling in. Sena… is trying his best. The long, tense car ride did nothing to ease the tension between them.

“Thank you, sir,” one of the valets says. “Gao will scan your invitations at the door as a precaution. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” Seijuro says. To Sena, he says under his breath, “You’re too stiff.”

“Sorry,” Sena whispers back. Instead of being ramrod straight, he hunches almost in half as they walk up the steps to the entrance.

“That is not any better.”

“What about now?”

“How do you manage not to give away important information when around your group?” Seijuro asks, vague enough for only Sena to understand.

“They don’t take me on important meetings.”

Rubbing his temple, Seijuro says, “Try to relax. If that’s not possible, actively think about dropping your shoulders and tilt your head up. That can fake being at ease.”

Sena nods, but his shoulders shoot back up to his ears when he spots the man who must be Gao guarding the entrance. Gao is a wall of muscle. A _building_ of muscle. Sena could probably fall asleep on the man’s _bicep_. He has a black dragon mask on with face tattoos peeking out from underneath it. He scans their invitations and tracks their movements as they enter the building, like an intelligent predator observing for potential threats.

Stepping into the foyer reveals that the inside of the mansion is every bit as opulent as the outside, dripping with gold and crystal embellishments twinkling under the lights. There’s a small orchestral group playing in the center gallery among the crowd of people. The mansion is filled to capacity. Everyone is wearing a suit or gown with ostentatious masks. The sounds of their eating as they grab hors d’oeuvres from passing servers in crisp white shirts and plain black masks, their drinking from cocktails or champagne flutes or wine glasses, their laughter, their rustling clothing, everything reaches Sena’s ears.

“Relax your shoulders,” Seijuro says again. Despite his casual demeanor taking in the surroundings, his voice is strained. He pushes both of them to the side so that they’re partially hidden by a support beam. “Take slower breaths. Here, hold this.”

It’s ice, cold and sharp. With a start, Sena snaps back to the moment, realizing he’s starting to hyperventilate. The freezing pain in his fingertips allows him to focus. He forces his shoulders down and back, lifts his chin, tunes his hearing down to a background hum, and matches his breathing to Seijuro’s. After a few moments which feel like an eternity, his heart rate finally returns to normal.

“I was not aware of your…” Seijuro trails off. His eyes show something like concern. He crosses his arms, holding an empty scotch glass in one hand.

“S-Sorry. I didn’t realize it’d be this crowded,” Sena says. “Thank you for, um, helping.” He gestures at the ice melting between his fingertips.

Seijuro looks away, gaze never settling on anything. He shakes his head as if to clear it. Sets his jaw. His eyes are aloof when they land back on Sena. “We need to be in top condition for this case.”

“Of course. So…” Sena chucks the rest of the ice into a potted plant and wipes his hands on his jacket.

“Like we decided before, we’ll meet at the ballroom’s entrance in two hours,” Seijuro says, back to business. “Yuudai Maruko will be hosting a toast sometime after that.”

“I guess we missed the first one. The drive took longer than expected.”

“My driving is fine,” Seijuro says.

“N-No, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sena insists.

“That car was defective.”

“Eh…”

“That’s beside the point. I’ll circle the perimeter. Ideally we find Yuudai Maruko and his son before their speeches in order to see them interact. Chrome?” Seijuro asks when Sena doesn’t respond.

Sena stares wide-eyed at the hordes of mingling guests and then up at Seijuro. Seijuro purses his lips.

“Fine. You circle the perimeter, and I’ll work through the center.”

Seijuro casually slips into the crowd, walking to the bar set up in the center gallery of the dwelling. It’s what all the other suits are doing. Seijuro’s just playing his part of an important executive there to be seen and to network. Grabbing a drink. Chatting with guests. Maybe with some of the gorgeous women already eyeing him up.

No, Sena can’t think like that. He has a job to do, and do correctly. The last thing he wants is for the Kingdom League to start doubting his loyalty if he doesn’t follow through on his hero duties. This is also his first time working with Dark Knight, and he can’t be the reason for a blemish on Dark Knight’s reputation. Although what was that saying about the enemies of your own enemies?

“ _You need to move_ ,” Seijuro’s voice says into Sena’s ear, causing him to jump. Sena quickly spots Dark Knight sipping a drink. His lips barely move. “ _Don’t draw suspicion. Shoulders down._ ”

“Head high,” Sena finishes, determined.

Staying close to the wall, Sena strolls leisurely along the mansion. Each step is like reminder that the Marukos are filthy rich, which abides his guilt at stuffing himself with food. The grand foyer (and _rear_ foyer), dining room, den, great room, and ballroom (with a _full orchestra_ and still plenty of room to spare) are all lavishly decorated and filled to capacity with politicians, business tycoons, and socialites. Not to mention the outside lawn, with the courtyard and terrace and open motor court and immaculately detailed gardens, is also brimming with guests.

Sena doesn’t know why he was worried about standing out. There’s no way he’ll even be noticed among everyone.

However, no one suspicious pops up. No one, frankly, really resembles the Reiji Maruko that Archangel presented on the screen earlier today. Sena sags a little into an overly stuffed chair. A fifteen minute break before trying again should do him some good. Seijuro and he can’t leave without some sort of clue after all this.

Above the fireplace foyer is a portrait of the Maruko family featuring a younger Yuudai and Hiroka Maruko and their infant Reiji. The family looks so innocent, Sena thinks, sitting on ornate wooden chairs. It’s hard to imagine the violence hidden underneath the surface. Sena’s eyes are drawn to the painting, something about the dragons etched along wood.

“You know this photograph is not up for auction,” a masculine voice says, bemused. The man has on a black reptilian mask that covers his entire face. “You’ve been staring at it for quite some time.”

“I-I have?” Sena asks. He hadn’t even noticed that he was being watched. His senses must be a little too dulled in order to keep from being overstimulated.

“For the past five minutes. What is so intriguing, if I may ask?”

“Oh, uh…” Sena mumbles, going to his cover story. “I just haven’t seen—ah, _Maruko_ , in a long time, and seeing this baby picture, it just brought back memories.”

“I see. How do you two know each other?”

“We, erm, played on the same amefuto team when were kids for a short while. This was—years ago, and we kind of lost contact.”

“What a pity.” The man looks at the photograph and then back at Sena. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I d-don’t drink.”

“These things are awfully boring without a drink. Or a date. Now, where did yours run off to?”

“No, I don’t—I didn’t bring a date.”

“You didn’t come here with anyone?”

Sena’s mind flashes to the two hour long car drive with Seijuro. It had been mostly silent, except for the occasional terse exchange.

“Well, I mean, I did come here with a friend, but it’s not like—that.”

“Don’t tell me they left you,” the man says dramatically. “Well, seeing as you’re all by yourself, I’d be more than happy to offer my service and catch up again.”

Sena jaw drops a little. “C-catch up?”

“Reiji Maruko, in the flesh. But I go by Marco now. Don’t tell me the mask threw you off.” He slips off his mask.

“You just look…” The Reiji – Marco – in front of him fills out his clothes with musculature and aloof confidence, nothing like the awkward photo shown to him earlier. “Different than how I remember.”

“I _was_ an ugly brat, there’s no refuting that.” Marco shrugs.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I promise!” Sena insists. There’s no denying Marco’s attractiveness now, but even in the photos Sena saw, Marco still had the same piercing eyes and strong jaw line back then. “You… you just grew into yourself, well, I mean, I would think some people would word it like that, but it was such a long time ago, and things get fuzzy.”

“Well what about yourself? What’s your name?”

“Um… Chrome…”

“You don’t trust me. I’m hurt.” Marco puts a hand to his heart in mock pain. “Not even after playing on the same team together.”

“I’m just following the rules for the masquerade,” Sena protests. “Sir, Mr. Maruko, I—“

“I said I go by Marco now. More manly don’t you think?” Marco settles his eyes onto Sena, and Sena’s face flushes with warmth. “Well, _Chrome_ , unfortunately I have to make my rounds as a co-host. You understand.”

“Of course,” Sena says. Sena’s eyes pick up Seijuro’s familiar frame covertly getting closer. It hasn’t been time already, has it? At least he’ll be able to relay what Marco looks like, so they can track him better. He also has snippets of his personality. He can build this into his report.

“ _Do you need backup?_ ” Seijuro asks, somehow still looking like he’s listening to the speaker in the small group he’s joined. Sena scratches his ear, surprised at hearing Seijuro’s voice so soon. A glance at a clock tells him that it hasn’t even been forty-five minutes since they’ve arrived.

“Come along, then.” Marco offers up his elbow from beneath the coat slung over his shoulders. Sena stares at it. “You’re my date, remember? I can’t leave you alone in good conscious. What if someone tries stealing you away? Or if your date comes to their senses and tries getting you back?”

“ _I repeat, do you need backup?”_

“I didn’t get stood up,” Sena says, the slightest frown on his lips. Sena adjusts his tie deliberately, one of their agreed-upon cues. _No backup needed. Proceeding with action. Regroup later._

“So what will you do?” Marco asks. Sena steels his resolve and places his hand atop the offered elbow lightly. If he wants insider details, there won’t be a better chance than this. He can handle himself.

“Excellent choice,” Marco says. Already people are recognizing him and walking over now that his mask is off.

Marco has an easy poise about him that he uses to command attention from those around him. He’s affable, if a bit sheepish and too relaxed, as he goes from guest to guest. Sena listens patiently, but there’s no vital information at all. Half of it sounds like basic networking talk. The other half is (all legal) business talk. Seijuro keeps following them around, always in the corner of Sena’s eye, always asking if Sena needs back up. The answer is always the same: _no backup needed. Proceeding with action. Regroup later._

“My, who is this?” an older woman calling herself “Bunny” slurs. She sways, gives Sena’s cheek a pat, and hiccups.

“My date for tonight,” Marco says, the same way he’s answered every other time someone asked. Aside from the odd polite question or two directed at Sena, everyone drops the fact that Sena is even there. Bunny seems too intoxicated to understand the invisible line.

“What does, ah, Maria, think? Where is she? I do love her so.” Bunny knocks back a martini. Half of it sloshes down her chest. “The wedding’s not off, is it? Again? Dear me, that would be the, the— _fourth_ time?”

Marco’s face doesn’t betray anything, still with that easy smile and quirked eyebrow of his. “You own the plastics manufacturer in the port of Nagoya.”

“Yes, business is going,” Bunny retches mid-sentence, but perseveres, “Is going great. After Maria consulted us on… now where _did_ she go? Is she here?”

An older man interrupts them, wrapping an arm around Bunny’s waist. He’s only barely more sober than her. “Bunny, you’re not making trouble for Mr. Maruko are you, dear?” He seems a little afraid.

“Of—of course not, honey,” Bunny teeters and leans against the man, smiling without a clue. “I was just… asking ‘bout his, his Maria. Lovely girl, she is. But he’s gone and replaced her! I was looking forward to the wedding…”

“Mr. Maruko, sir, please excuse my wife, she’s, ah, indisposed.”

“I’ll quell the rumors now: Maria and I are still engaged. I’d say we are very much in love.”

“Right, of course, sir, yes, sir, please excuse us, sir,” the man stutters, eyes wide and focused on anything else except how Sena’s pressed so close to Marco’s side that Marco’s suit jacket also covers Sena.

As soon as the couple is out of sight, swallowed by the crowd of similarly inebriated people, Marco’s smile disappears.

“I think I’ll send them flowers,” Marco says to himself with a pensive look, then shrugs. He puts his mask back on, and almost instantly, people lose interest. “I need some fresh air.”

By this point, the crowd is entirely drunk, no doubt to ease fundraising event that will be held later, and barely anyone notices as they go outside. The terrace is decorated with paper lanterns. Strings lights are swirled around the trees and through the garden where the heady aroma of flowers in bloom wafts from. The open space swallows the noise of the party inside. It feels strangely intimate even though the space is large. Marco leans against the railing, looking over the reptilian mask in his hands. Sena stands a few feet away from him.

“You may as well go ahead and ask,” Marco drawls out.

“Excuse me?” Sena squeaks.

“About Maria.”

“T-That’s really not any of my business to pry!”

“How polite. It would do everyone in there good to take after you.” Marco closes the distance between them. He’s not just a spoiled heir to be plopped at the head of the family company; he’s a cunning businessman ready to rule an empire. He’s dangerous. “Still, you’re curious.”

“I think I got the wrong impression,” Sena mumbles.

Marco tilts his head to peer at Sena through his long eyelashes. “Not entirely the wrong idea, I’d say.” He cradles Sena’s cheek with his palm, holds it there, before sliding his hand to the back of Sena’s neck and leaning close. “Maria certainly has her own devices. It works for us. Though I’d say entangling a hero into our business would be a step too far.”

Sena freezes in place. Marco’s hand grazes along his cheekbone and back up to his ear. Deft fingers work at Sena’s ear com and snag it out of place.

“I… I can explain,” Sena swallows thickly.

“You must think I’m a fool. That I didn’t notice your eyes darting around the entire time you were here? The Kevlar woven through your suit? That lousy cover story?”

Marco’s phone alarm goes off. “And look, just in time for the auction.”

“I thought there was still an hour left,” Sena says, eyeing the distance to the nearest door. Marco is between Sena and the door to the mansion. Marco wouldn’t dare have his cover ruined in front of his guests in order to chase him.

“There are always multiple levels to business. But it would not do me good to reveal too much information to your partner. I haven’t spotted them yet, but I will.”

Sweat is beading up underneath Sena’s mask. He digs out his goggles and puts them on in an instant. Sena’s and Seijuro’s cover is as good as blown. It’s regrettable, but nothing can be done to change it. The new object is to escape. With his goggles on, he feels safer.

Marco just watches, smile starting to fade.

“Ah, I’m getting a little nervous now,” Marco says. He puts two hands out, trying to ease the situation. “Let’s not do anything hasty.”

“Step aside,” Sena says. Sena activates his foresight. “Please.”

The paths to the door are clear, but—

But there’s something—

Each path of light is cut off by a cliff where Marco stands.

“You’re really getting serious, huh?” Marco rubs his cheek nervously. “I hate taking on strong guys like you.”

He knows so little about Marco. The anxiety is making his stomach roll. Maybe that’s what’s affecting his foresight. He must have eaten something bad, too. If it’s speed, he won’t lose to even Dark Knight. He thinks. Probably.

Without another chance for hesitation, Sena sprints forward. Marco’s face gets serious, tracking Sena’s movements. Sena steps around him and puts in a last burst of speed to increase their separation, but his world spins, and he finds himself pressed against Marco. Marco seems to have some sort of strength enhancement because Sena can’t shake his grip.

“You’re fast,” Marco says. “They’re going to go crazy for you. Gao, if you please.”

A large shadow looms closer. It’s Gao. An unknown, probably recently hired. He wasn’t even mentioned during the briefing.

“Gao, I told you not to come here. It decrease our security out front,” Marco frets.

“I didn’t want to miss the fun,” Gao says.

“Ah, I suppose there’s no helping it. Well, since you’re here, help me out with him.”

Gao wraps his enormous hands around Sena. This is different than Marco; Gao’s hold on him is an absolute, raw strength that Sena has no hope to escape from.

Sena’s breathing kicks it up a notch. Anxiety gives way to fully fledge dread. He’s faster than Marco, he _knows_ this, but yet he couldn’t get away from him.

The sidewalk leading to the garden sinks into the ground as Marco pushes a button on his phone, revealing a dark passage underneath like the maw of some prehistoric predator. Sena struggles against the hold with renewed vigor, a little desperation kicking in. Did Seijuro see where he was taken? What if he got distracted talking to some pretty girl? Is he even looking for Sena? Where did everyone go? Just a minute ago the courtyard was teeming with people.

“Be a good guest, dear Chrome,” Marco says.

The passage leads to an underground storage space that Sena stumbles into under Gao’s hold. The entire space is freezing. Their breathing comes out in little puffs. The sidewalk closes back up behind them.

Marco opens one of the password protected storage cubes, humming under his breath. The room is bleak concrete, more of a jail cell than anything else. There’s a four poster bed with restraints attached to the posts and a toilet/sink combo.

Sena wishes he had screamed when he had the chance, but now his mouth feels like a desert, and he can’t get anything out louder than a hoarse whisper.

“What’s happening?” Sena asks, breathing harder and harder.

“I can handle it from here, Gao. His partner will be searching for him. Take care of them.”

Gao cracks his knuckles after handing Sena off. “It’s about time. I’m not holding back.”

Gao’s killer instinct rolls off of him as he exits. Sena shouldn’t be worried about Dark Knight, but he can’t help himself. If Seijuro were to get hurt, it’d be his fault. All because he can’t move.

“You know, if it was possible I’d prefer that no one be injured,” Marco says, like he’s trying to appease Sena.

“What are you going to do?”

“Just some business,” Marco says. He holds Sena’s hands in one of his as he gets the restraints ready. The grip is just loose enough for Sena to claw away, foresight activated, his mind a confusing mix of adrenaline and inhibitors. He stumbles a few steps out, tearing Marco’s sleeve in the process, before Marco twists to capture him again. This time, Marco restrains Sena on the bed in a flash.

“This is _Armani_.” Marco adjusts his sleeve, hiding reptilian tattoos all along his forearm. Sena’s seen that before, but the memory won’t come through his sluggish, addled mind. Marco digs out a small vial from the inside pocket of his suit. “You are going to need something to relax. You didn’t drink anything. Very smart of you. The food wasn’t laced as much. Good thing I’m always prepared.”

Sena’s eyes go impossibly wider.

A desolate room. A bed with shackles. Some sort of drug.

“What are you going to do?” Sena asks again and his voice cracks, an edge of hysterics creeping in.

“I’m not going to do anything. Others?” Marco shrugs, carefree. “I’d say now would be a good time to tell me what hero agency you work for so I can send them flowers.”

“D-Don’t touch me,” Sena says, recoiling into himself as much as he can. The pain of a needle pinches at his neck. There’s a moment of stillness between Sena and Marco, and then Sena feels a sluggishness move throughout his body. It’s like his muscles refuse to listen to him. His head lolls to the side.

“Charming,” Marco teases but his words slur together to Sena. Marco takes off the goggles and the mask. “The selling price will surely be higher if we were to see that pretty little face of yours.” Marco examines Sena’s mask, poking the padding along the jaw and nose, before looking sharply up. “How old are you? I do have some morals, you know.”

“T… twenty two,” Sena gasps, barely able to remember his cover. His vision is hazy. Marco is in triplicate. The room is unbearably hot now. He can still see his breath, but it must be at least one hundred degrees going by how he feels. How had he ever thought it was cold? How can Marco wear his suit and coat in this blistering heat? “Hot…” Sena whines.

Marco wets his handkerchief at the sink and drapes it along Sena’s forehead. “The hell is all this on your face? It’s impossible to take off. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.” He checks his Rolex, his sleeve slipping down to reveal his tattoos, and clicks his tongue in annoyance. “There is simply not enough time. I hate leaving you like this, but I do have other guests to entertain. I’d say you won’t mind if I step out for a bit, right?”

Sena can only let out a small whimper, as another wave of heat incapacitates him. He’s completely pliant, barely able to think straight. But he recognizes the tattoos now.

(Velociraptors and tyrannosaurus rexes. The insignia of the Hakushu yakuza. Demon’s biggest threat.)

“Pretend you didn’t see that, hm?” Marco smiles and adjusts his sleeve. He caresses Sena’s cheek and—

Sena moans against the cool press of Marco’s fingers relieving the burning fire under his skin. He can’t even summon enough energy to be mortified.

“That’s what I thought.” Marco slips his mask on and swaggers out of the room, leaving Sena alone in agony.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seijuro feels like he’s losing something. Like something is being taken from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood warning.
> 
> Also, Shin POV!

Seijuro spots Yuudai and Hiroka Maruko speaking with the captains of their security team after a few minutes of searching. Yuudai Maruko is of average height and build and seems to favor one leg, most likely due to injuries acquired during his mafia affiliations in the past. Hiroka Maruko is tall, with the build and grace of a dancer. Both of them are sober and relaxed as they take in the security report from their guards. A routine procedure, then.

It would have been much better if Devilbat were the one to intermingle through the crowd. Devilbat could overhear their conversations while Seijuro observed body language from afar. That’s why they planned it like that to begin with.

After seeing Devilbat on the brink of a panic attack, Seijuro knew they would be compromised if they followed through with the original plan. Though they’re partners, Seijuro won’t allow himself to trust the other. He knows it will only be a matter of time before the rug is pulled out from under him and Devilbat exposes his true intentions and deserts Seijuro during a crisis.

That being said, Sena has never lied to him.

The fact weighs heavily on Seijuro. Still, there’s an inevitability between them. Seijuro will protect himself and his family. The only way to do that is to guard himself against Devilbat in order to be prepared for when things deteriorate. Things will deteriorate. Whatever he and Devilbat have going on isn’t meant to last.

That’s why he refrains from mentioning he has spotted two of the targets to Devilbat, just in case. They are both in enemy territory. Arguably, Seijuro is more at risk since Devilbat has no true loyalty towards him. Just a misplaced sense of admiration. It’s getting harder for Seijuro to ignore Devilbat’s… enthusiasm at working together. Even more troubling is the fact that it’s genuine.

“Well, Carbon, what do you say?” a business woman asks through her golden mask, drawing the attention of their small group. They’re all drunk already, and will forget about him if he’s gone for longer than five minutes. “Another round?”

“Of course,” Seijuro says, already turning. “I’ll get them. If you will excuse me.”

Instead, Seijuro mingles from group to group, always leaving a vague impression and nursing the same glass of water, tracking after the Marukos. There’s a small sense of unease that grows in his stomach at leaving Devilbat on his own.

Left to his own devices. With minimal supervision. How easy it would be for him to betray Seijuro.

Gritting his teeth, he circles back around, this time looking for Devilbat. He’ll make a visual check-in instead of using his ear com.

(He wants to see that Sena is okay.)

He needs to confirm that Devilbat is still playing his part.

Finally, he spots Devilbat. He’s talking with a tall man of slightly muscular build. They stand close to each other. The other man has his forearm braced against the wall, leaning against it with his chest puffed out as he tilts his head to listen better, almost hovering over Sena. He throws his head back to laugh at something Sena says, tilts his head in consideration of Sena, and cants his hips in Sena’s direction. He takes off his mask next, and Seijuro deduces that the stranger is none other than Reiji Maruko.

Reiji Maruko takes a step closer to Sena.

“ _Do you need backup?_ ” Seijuro asks Sena through the ear com, tracking every movement Maruko makes. Maruko is off putting in the same manner car salespeople are. Seijuro won’t include that in the report. That is a personal observation and has little to no relevance—

Maruko offers his elbow out to Sena.

“ _I repeat, do you need backup?_ ” Seijuro asks, ignoring the group that he’s with entirely.

Sena’s hesitation is clear on his face before it gives way to resolve. He adjusts his tie to signal regrouping later.

An acrid taste sours Seijuro’s mouth as he watches Sena latch on to Maruko.

He follows after the pair, observing Maruko’s body language as he engages with his guests. Maruko is not discreet about his intentions. He takes crowded walkways in order to press Sena closer to himself. He talks close into Sena’s ear despite the near distance being unnecessary to hear each other. One of his hands is glued to the small of Sena’s back. In fact, he periodically soothes his hand against Sena’s back whenever Sena gets too flustered.

It’s difficult to discern if Sena is enjoying the attention. Seijuro thinks not. They’re on a highly dangerous case after all. It would be totally inappropriate for Sena to indulge in whatever fantasy Maruko is spinning. Seijuro can tell that Sena is nervous, but he’s almost always nervous and fluttery. He’s not leaning in to Maruko’s touches, but he’s also denied every request for backup Seijuro has offered. Seijuro doesn’t like the implication, but he can’t tear his eyes from them.

He walks away from the pair in order to cool down but keeps them in the corner of his eye. He needs to be objective and analyze the situation. The possibility that Devilbat and Maruko have some sort of agreement is low. Devilbat couldn’t have planned it. Could the Captain have put Devilbat up to it? Possible. Believable. The motive is murky, but the Captain doesn’t relay everything to Devilbat anyway. Devilbat is just a pawn at the end of the day, much like Seijuro is to the Kingdom League. If Seijuro truly had agency, he would have refused to work with Devilbat—

No, that’s beside the point. He needs to focus on the immediate situation.

Sena is with the target and gaining valuable information in order to profile Reiji Maruko. It’s basically what they had planned from the beginning though with increased risk. Sena is a highly skilled striker proficient with his superpowers. He has a speed that no strength can touch, that even Seijuro struggles to fight against. Maruko does not have any known abilities. Therefore, Seijuro has no reason to be concerned, either for Sena or because of Sena.

Still.

Something about seeing Sena in Maruko’s arms makes Seijuro feel like he’s losing something. Like something is being taken from him.

Seijuro sets his drink aside. The long day is taking its toll on him. He needs to refresh himself. He heads to one of the bathrooms. A couple pulls apart as he opens the door. They adjust their clothing while giving him pointed looks.

“Hey, w-what do you think—”

“Occupied,” Seijuro says, leaving no room for argument.

The couple hurry away.

Finally alone, Seijuro splashes his face with cold water. He needs to regroup. _They_ need to regroup. Sena and him. They need to discuss how their plan is evolving now that Sena has entered the exceedingly good graces of Reiji Maruko. How far does Maruko’s gentlemanly façade extend, and will it end with him and Sena, alone in a room, like the couple Seijuro just saw?

The granite vanity cracks under Seijuro’s grip.

He’s not being himself. It’s always been slightly difficult to remain composed around Devilbat, a being basically created to clash against Seijuro. Admittedly, Sena’s personality does not truly clash with Seijuro. Sena is easy to work with, helpful and capable. Earnest. Not the worst traits in a partner. A shame that they cannot truly be allies. For the time being, Seijuro will play his role as senior member of their partnership. He will leave Sena and Maruko alone. If anything happens, Sena will use the ear com to ask for backup.

Everything is still under control. Seijuro is under control.

He pats himself dry and resumes his surveillance of Yuudai and Hiroka Maruko as they address their guests in the ballroom. The ballroom has several art pieces and artifacts arranged about the room with placards denoting their value.

“Thank you to everyone for coming,” Hiroka Maruko says graciously. “As you know, this is a celebratory evening for our son, our family, and our business. We could not be happier to celebrate with everyone here.”

“Please enjoy the rest of the evening,” Yuudai Maruko says. “The auction will begin shortly, so please look around this room and the courtyard for items of interest.”

In avertedly, Seijuro ends up still looking for Sena and Reiji Maruko. He can’t see them anywhere. They must have snuck off after all. It doesn’t sit right with Seijuro. His mind replays the predatory way Reiji Maruko stalked alongside Sena, how he kept sizing Sena up, considering him.

Yuudai Maruko was involved with the mafia. Trafficking. Drugs and weapons and exotic animals. Supposedly, that was all behind him. The Kingdom League had been unable to find anything recent on Yuudai or Hiroka Maruko, but what about their son? The Maruko’s business had struggled to stay afloat ever since their criminal associations came to light.

At some sort of hidden cue, there’s a few people trying to discretely leave the room. The handful of people can’t hide their gleeful faces and looks of contempt even under their masks. They have an air of knowing something others don’t. Their mannerisms are overly casual to the point of being unbelievable. With a sinking feeling, Seijuro assess that there has to be more than one auction happening. Before Seijuro can follow after, the security around their room become alert, subtly hovering around the Marukos. They seem to gather more information, and then they escort the couple out.

A crash emanates from the grand foyer followed by a louder one. Shrieks pierce the air. Emerging from a cloud of drywall dust and debris, is Gao.

. . .

Sena doesn’t know how much time has gone by since he got captured. The debilitating arousal comes in waves. During the peaks: he’s inconsolable, almost to the point of blacking out. This might be the tenth cycle he’s gone through. The first few ones had been blinding storms of heat, sweat, and desperation, and the down times had been shorter. It seems like they’re slowing down a bit. Now, his senses are starting to come back to him again, overstimulation dulling. He can focus on things other than his burning arousal and inability to do anything about it.

He’s still weak, but he has a little bit of motor control. He tests the restraints again. There’s a small amount of slack in the chains attached to the bedposts, but not enough to move around. His arms are falling asleep as they rest at an awkward angle.

Sena expects to see Marco walk in with a buyer at any moment. He doesn’t know what he’ll be able to do, but he needs to make a plan for when—

Seijuro walks in.

Sena stops breathing. He can’t look away, can’t hide his body sprawled embarrassingly on display, can’t hide the arousal that the drug is forcing his body through.

Seijuro crosses his arms. He looks different. It takes a bit for Sena to realize that he’s not wearing his mask and that his suit is different.

“How long have you been like this?” Seijuro asks as he walks up to Sena, eyeing him from head to toe. “This is what you’ve been up to this entire time? Think about how this reflects on our agency. How it reflects on me.”

Sena slurs out an apology hardly above a whisper. His mumbling is unintelligible. He tries explaining what happened. The strange power Marco has that cut off his foresight. How terrifying it was to see the future disappear. He hadn’t screamed, and his com piece had been taken away, and then the drug. It must have been some sort of aphrodisiac-inhibitor hybrid, something that left his memory spotty, too. It left him so weak that he didn’t fight back because he couldn’t. None of his body will cooperate. Even if Sena weren’t restrained, there’s little he could do to move.

“Did you even try to escape?” Seijuro asks. Sena nods. “No, I don’t believe you.”

Seijuro’s gaze says it all: is this the best Sena could do? Given the resources of the Kingdom League and Dark Knight as a partner, this is all Sena could manage? To get himself trapped?

It’s Seijuro’s disappointment. It’s painful. Sena’s breath stutters in his chest, a broken sob.

“N-No,” Sena says. “I tried… I couldn’t… I…”

“This is why you’ll never be more than a villain.” Seijuro shakes his head in disgust. “You could never be a hero. I came here so I could help you escape, but I see now that there’s no use for it. You are useless to me.”

Hot tears pool in Sena’s eyes and roll down his cheeks.

“I’m s… sorry,” Sena grits out, panting.

“Dilated pupils, elevated heart rate, increased perspiration,” Seijuro lists off the symptoms like a doctor. “Flushed skin, delayed reaction times, slurred speech. It is about to surge again.”

Sena scrunches his eyes and nods. The effects are dulling. It’s taking longer between each wave. Sena’s high metabolic rate is processing the drug faster than a normal person. It doesn’t change the fact of how helpless the peaks leave him. He doesn’t want Seijuro to see him like that.

(A small part of him doesn’t want Seijuro to leave.)

Already, Sena is starting to gasp at the heightened sensations. Even the slight pressure of his pants against his arousal is enough to send goosebumps up Sena’s arms.

Seijuro leans over Sena, stares directly into Sena’s eyes. He grasps at Sena’s wrists, wrapping his hands against them harshly. The cuffs dig into Sena’s reddened wrists where the top few layers of skin have been chaffed raw.

Sena can’t help it. It’s the most stimulation he’s felt. And it’s by Seijuro. He moans.

It doesn’t even seem to register for Seijuro. Seijuro puts more strength into his hold and leans down farther over the bed so that their chests are just grazing past each other. Sena can feel the heat radiating off Seijuro. His back arches up without permission, seeking even the slightest bit more contact. Seijuro responds by pressing even more firmly against his wrists and preventing Sena from getting any closer.

“Please,” Sena says, panting heavily. His skin is slicked with sweat under his suit. He can feel it bead up and drip low, making him squirm. Or maybe that’s just Seijuro’s steady presence making him squirm. “ _Please_.”

“Please what?” Seijuro asks.

“Please, _sir_ ,” Sena begs. He wants to feel Seijuro press against him, grind against him, pull his hair, soothe his aches, kiss him, touch him, anything, literally _anything_. He just needs Seijuro to touch him and look at him with anything other than pity, to look at him the way he looks at Seijuro.

“No.”

Fresh tears drip down Sena’s face at the harsh rejection.

“No?” Sena gasps, small and dejected.

Seijuro’s grip on Sena’s wrists is painful, _excruciating_. Sena might be bleeding even.

“Think. What is the only thing about you that isn’t useless?”

Sena’s eyes flutter. He doesn’t want questions. He wants to feel Seijuro against him, his skin, his calloused hands, all of Seijuro. He wants Seijuro to strip him apart.

Unforgiving fingers snag Sena’s chin and force him to focus on Seijuro’s dark blue eyes.

“What is the one thing only you possess?”

Sena whines at the touch. He parts his lips a little wider. He wants Seijuro to—

“Answer me,” Seijuro demands.

“F-Foresight?” Sena asks, shivering as Seijuro’s thumb just barely strokes his bottom lip when Sena talks.

“Incorrect. That is secondary. It’s simpler than that.”

Sena frowns, fighting past his lust, trying to think. But Seijuro makes it so hard—makes lots of things hard—with the way he touches Sena and the way his voice is so low and gravely. Sena would do anything for Seijuro. Sena just wants to make Seijuro happy. Seijuro wants an answer, so Sena thinks, even though he would much rather make Seijuro happy in other ways.

Sena’s not particularly strong, or brave, or smart. Is his foresight not his one ability? Well, it’s mostly useless now since he can’t activate it without pain flaring up. Besides, he doubts he’d be able execute any of the paths in his addled state.

Oh.

That means.

The only thing he really excels in is:

“S-Speed,” Sena slurs.

“That’s right.” Seijuro rewards Sena by sweeping his thumb across Sena’s chin, once. Sena sighs contently. “You have your speed. Even now. What will you sacrifice to use it?” Seijuro still has one of Sena’s wrists tightly gripped in his hold. He increases the pressure enough to make Sena yelp in pain. “How will you escape?”

“’Scape? ‘Scape by…” Nothing makes sense. Why isn’t Seijuro wearing his mask? Why is his disguise gone? Why won’t he touch him more? Why would Sena ever want to escape? Sena wants Seijuro to touch him.

Instead, Seijuro makes Sena look at his wrist. The skin, covered in a sheen of sweat, is bright red, the skin rubbed raw from the cuffs, almost to the point of bleeding but not quite. Not yet.

“It will hurt,” Seijuro says, letting go of Sena and straightening back up. His shirt is unbuttoned at the throat and his tie is loose. His jacket is nowhere to be seen. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and slippers. He looks like the very first time Sena ever saw him. It occurs to Sena that Seijuro isn’t actually here. “But it does not matter. Blood is slick.”

Another misty wave of lust washes over Sena. His head lolls back.

“What will you sacrifice for your speed?” Seijuro’s voice is so far away, just an echo in Sena’s ear.

“Anything,” Sena mumbles.

Sena’s vision goes hazy, and when he blinks, Seijuro is gone.

His body is taught, both of his arms pulling tightly against the restraints. Is it better that Seijuro was never actually here or is it worse?

The drug must be dampening his regenerative abilities. Sena’s also dehydrated and hasn’t eaten recently which is probably slowing his healing as well. He glances at his wrists and then down at his ankles. If he can get his hands free, he can undo the restraints. They’re simple buckles instead of locks. Marco must have overestimated the drug’s potency.

Sena has always been pain aversive. He’s a bit of a coward actually.

“I don’t need my left hand,” Sena says to himself, terrified. He’s shaking. His left hand twitches involuntarily. His fear has cleared his mind somewhat, sobered him up. “I’m right handed. I don’t need the left one. It’ll heal. They can heal it. I need to escape.”

The cuff is made of a resistant alloy material, too strong for Sena to break it. He’d tried before, during other periods of lucidity, but he couldn’t get the right angle or torque. Sena isn’t that strong compared to other super-powered heroes or villains.

“That doesn’t matter,” Sena tells himself.

Sena had been pulling before, trying to either break the cuff or the chain. It’s different now.

The first tug he does is experimental, just trying to find the right slant. He pulls down, bringing his elbow in so that the force is in a straight line. The cuff grates at his wrists. Dull pain flares along his skin. It’s an annoying pain: his body asking him to stop.

He scoots from the center to the edge of the bed, as far as the restraints allow, so that his arm won’t hit his torso. The edges of the wrist cuff are blunt, but with enough force, anything can draw blood.

Sweat has cooled along Sena’s body. It chills him. This is the most clarity he’s had. He needs to make the most of it.

Sena does a few more experimental pulls until he’s certain he knows the right path. It doesn’t have to be worse than it needs to be. Setting his jaw, Sena takes a preparatory breath.

Sena yanks his arm down.

The fragile skin at his wrist bruises, but doesn’t break. Not enough. Sena’s holding back.

( _It will hurt. But it does not matter._ _What are you willing to sacrifice?_ )

( _Anything._ )

“Just need to be… strong enough for this…” Sena says. He rotates his wrist against the cuff until some of skin snags against the restraint, right at the inner part of the wrist where his blood vessels pump closely against the surface.

Summoning all his strength, Sena wrenches his arm violently downward.

The pain is immediate and sharp and hot and makes Sena cry out.

His skin shreds. There’s a deep click as something breaks, maybe the ulna or one of the smaller, more delicate bones. Three of his fingers twitch and spasm before settling down. He can still flex them with some effort. His eyes are drawn to the blood seeping from the wound. He thought it might spurt out in time to his pulse, but instead the blood flow is steady if thin. He’ll need more.

Sena yanks his arm down again and again, grunting at the pain. Each time tearing his skin apart even more until the blood flow is voluminous enough to concern him. Rolling pain pulsates from his wrist all through his arm and down to his ribs. He can feel the pain like lightening all through the left side of his body.

He rotates his wrists so the blood coats as much of the cuff as possible.

( _What are you willing to sacrifice?_ )

Sena pulls down steadily this time, a mangled scream pushing past his lips. The torn skin catches against the edge of the restraint. Sena presses into it, his breath harshly escaping through clenched teeth. He slides his hand down a bit more. There’s a humming sensation that throbs through his hand as his skin starts to peel away from the muscle. Hot blood runs in rivers down Sena’s arm, disappearing into the sleeve of his suit. His hand inches down a bit more, skin bunching at the edge of the hand cuff, before his hand gets stuck. He digs the flesh of his thumb against the cuff, almost hooking it to the edge, and keeps pulling. His fingers twitch wildly. The meat of his thumb parts away.

Sena pulls harder. He chokes when bone makes bare contact against the metal. His hand slides down, thumb and pinky compressing unnaturally into his palm, ragged skin and torn flesh following after until, finally, his mangled hand emerges free of the restraint.

He rests it against his chest, moaning in pain and relief. He gasps once, twice, then starts unbuckling his right hand. He can’t see the buckle from how it’s situated above his head, but he won’t stop now. There’s so much blood. It covers his whole left sleeve and the sheets and there’s a small puddle of it on the floor. His fingers barely work as they slip against the metal. His thumb is useless. He shattered the metacarpal bone. Every few seconds, a tremor takes over his whole arm. He keeps working on it until the cuff opens.

Sena rests back against the bed, both of his hands against his chest, like he’s a corpse. He might be one already. The amount of blood he’s lost is concerning, borderline fatal. Just freeing his right arm made him lightheaded.

Using his good hand, he drapes the de-gloved skin and flesh over the bare bone of his thumb. It’s so unnerving to see the gore with his own eyes. He can’t even comprehend that it’s him that did it. He wraps the pillowcase around his pulsing arm and uses his tie as a makeshift sling to press his injured hand against his chest. His mangled hand feels like it is being submerged in boiling water every time he moves it. His grits his teeth and frees his legs. As long as he can still use his speed, he has a chance. Stumbling to the faucet, he gulps in handfuls of water. It helps with his nausea and dizziness.

The door takes a few kicks to open, but eventually Sena is back out onto the underground storage space. Concrete and nondescript with fluorescent lights and doors lining the long halls. It’s still empty. How long was he out? He consciously triggers his augmented hearing in search of any sign of Seijuro.

What he hears sends chills down his spine.

In every storage room, heart monitors beep mutedly over the fitful breathing of people in drug induced sleep. With growing horror, he realizes that every storage room must be filled with victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahhhh I wrote this so fast like??? I know there's errors but just.... here....
> 
> Oh I can't believe I made Sena go through that Q_Q he doesn't deserve it... I swear next chapter will be the last one of this situation!!! There will be comfort!! But also ... yikes, some bad things are going to happen between Shin and Sena so be prepared. Next update should be in about 3 weeks!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "KBZ did you really take 3 weeks to write this mini chapter?"
> 
> I got hooked on stardew valley again which left me with very little time, and I'm doing my best!!! I will try to get another short chapter out before the end of this month.
> 
> I think this mini arc has about 4k words to go before we can finally get to fluff!! (40K words in...... this is why I need a beta.....)

* * *

Sena leans against the cement walls, knees trembling in the effort to keep himself upright. He doesn’t want to waste time since Marco could return at any moment, but he needs to catch his breath. He’s weak and alone and cold and—

Another chill runs through Sena. Blood loss is rising on his list of concerns. He bled out more than he realized. Coldness at his fingertips, his chattering teeth, the mental fog. And… his wound hasn’t started healing either. Glistening white bone peaks up at him amid the gore of muscle and tattered skin. Sena’s running on fumes.

The drug’s effects are thankfully waning, but he still feels disoriented and confused and—

Dark Knight probably thinks that Sena willingly left with the enemy. That Sena betrayed Seijuro.

Sena shakes his head and winces when it causes nausea to roil in the back of his throat. That was the wrong move. He needs to find the right move. His previous experience with Deimon didn’t prepare him for this. Sena usually escapes the first chance he gets. With his foresight and speed, that is his whole point: get in and get out as quickly as possible. That’s Sena’s purpose as a villain.

So he could just—leave. Escape above and find Seijuro. Say he suspected there may have been victims underground, that he overheard suspicious sounds but couldn’t go and check. He could lie.

(Could he lie?)

(To Dark Knight?)

(To Seijuro?)

As convoluted as everything is, Sena’s a hero currently.

Hero’s stay. They help. They protect. It’s what Dark Knight would do, and Sena is Dark Knight’s partner. He needs to stay even though his self-preservation instincts are telling him to escape.

He shuffles to the storage room closest to him, leaving bloody hand prints along the wall where he braces himself for support. There’s a passcode lock on the door like the one that was outside Sena’s room. Next to the door is a placard. Sena squints at it until it makes sense.

_Name: Tamura, Ryoko_

_Age: 24_

_Price: 10.5m yen_

Only a couple million yen, Sena thinks, swallowing thickly at the thought. A measly sum for the life of a person.

There’s a narrow window on the door, frosted over at the edges. Sena peeks through it.

A young woman, Tamura, sleeps on a gurney. She’s strapped down to the bed, restrained across her body with heavy-duty belts. She has a wide collar around her throat, similar to a neck brace. She’s hooked up to all sorts of medical machines that pierce into her body like serpents.

Experimentally, Sena tries the door handle. It’s icy to the touch and locked. Right. Of course. Sena needs to—he needs to…

Seijuro leans against the door of the next room over. Unbuttoned dress shirt, loose tie, sweat pants, slippers. No mask. He looks disappointed, so Sena focuses on the key pad in front of him.

“You will not last much longer,” Seijuro says.

“I know,” Sena mumbles. His ruined hand pulses incredibly hot against his chest. It’s practically the only thing he can focus on.

“You can’t save them all.”

“I know.” Sena presses his forehead against the wall to keep the room from spinning.

“You may not even be able to save yourself.”

Sena can’t deny any of Seijuro’s claims. They’re all true. A slow-spreading burn itches at the back of his throat. He fights back tears.

“Is that it, then?” Seijuro asks.

“N-No,” Sena says, stubborn. “I have… my speed.”

“Useless at the moment. Save that for the end. What can you use now?”

“Um,” Sena frowns. “Foresight, maybe? No, too painful, that’s a last resort. Hearing? Strength? I don’t know. Can—can you help me?”

Seijuro’s gone by the time Sena looks up. Well, Seijuro was never really there, but it still stings all the same.

A full body shudder violently overtakes Sena. He hunches into himself further. Alone, cold, the humming of fluorescent lights surrounding him.

( _It makes him think of… it reminds him of a memory… a fleeting glimpse of before Deimon, maybe. Of being cold, and bright lights, unable to sleep, and being trapped. Where is this memory from? Or is it a dream? He was trapped, at some point, suffocating, unable to move or moving slowly like he was under water, and there had been so much_ )

Pain erupts from Sena’s hands. He looks down to where he’s gripping the locking mechanism with both hands tight enough to start denting the metal. Fresh blood flows from his gored hand. Sena quickly uses a shoelace as a makeshift tourniquet and wraps his hand back up. His breathing is shaky and the edge of his eyesight has a fuzzy quality.

He may not be able to save everyone trapped down here, that much is certain, but maybe he can save one person. Maybe he can save another after that. Just one step at a time. Keep his focus, narrow his actions.

_Think, just think it through._

He needs to last long enough for Dark Knight to find them. Dark Knight is a seasoned professional. He’ll be looking for Sena even if he has the incorrect idea that Sena betrayed him. Dark Knight will find them. Sena would bet his life on it.

There’s no time for subterfuge or subtlety anymore. He’ll break the lock and sound the alarm that it’s surely connected to. Using his good hand, Sena tears at the lock, ripping out the number pad and using it to strike against the door until the locking mechanism is exposed. Sena’s running out of time. He spends precious minutes kicking at the locking mechanism, tearing at it, destroying it, until finally, he breaks it.

He’s panting harshly and light headed, almost swooning. His right hand is a bloody mess. He’s lost some fingernails.

There’s no alarm.

But the door is open.

That’s all that matters at the moment. He’ll figure the rest out later. He stumbles into the room. He doesn’t really understand the ramifications of removing the medical apparatuses from Tamura. It has to be better than being trafficked, though.

He fights with the straps one-handed to remove the belts. Leaving the IV dripped attached to Tamura, Sena carefully removes everything else. He jostles Tamura gently, trying to wake her. Her eyelids flutter but nothing more. Sena hoists the woman onto his back, hunched over so she won’t fall, and shambles back outside, rolling the IV behind them.

He sets Tamura down against the wall in the hallway. Sena leans against the wall as he analyzes her for clues. Tamura’s skin is ice cold and almost blue looking. Parts of her hair are frozen together like she walked outside in a snowstorm with wet hair. The collar she has on has vials all around the circumference filled with a deep red liquid. Two of the vials are already empty.

This is the first person Sena’s ever rescued in his life. Kind of like he’s a hero for real.

Tamura is safe. Well, safer. Probably. It depends on how quickly Sena can get backup.

 _That wasn’t so bad_ , Sena thinks, ignoring the way his heart stutters at the obvious lie. _What’s one more?_

But how will Seijuro find them? Sena doesn’t have a way to contact Seijuro.

The humming around them grows as Sena amplifies his hearing, listening for any signs of Dark Knight. Instead, he hears something eerily familiar.

( _the humming, being cold, colder,_ _freezing_ )

The muted rush of a cooling system all around them. He’s not just in an underground storage area. He’s in a giant freezer. The victims are kept cold to prevent them from waking up and to keep them torpid and fresh.

Whenever Seijuro finds them, the victims will need immediate medical attention. Sena needs to alert Seijuro.

Sena’s eyes land on the circuitry of the electric lock he broke. Still live.

 _That’s a bad idea_ , Sena thinks. Unfortunately, it’s the only one he has.

Sena’s never been an arsonists, but it was something Hiruma took great joy in teaching him. He drags the bedding and sheets closer to the circuitry and swallows thickly. This is rather dicey territory. Fire alarms are _loud_ , but _fires_ are dangerous.

Dark Knight will find them. Sena knows this. He’ll find them in time. He’ll know what to do. He’ll save all of them, including Sena who’s swaying on his feet and on the verge of organ shutdown.

He holds the bedsheets with his teeth and starts crossing the wires just in front of them. It takes him a few tries to get a spark as the electricity arcs from one wire to the other, and a few more tries until the bedding catches the spark. The fire starts slowly, first as mostly smoke smoldering on the damp sheets, but then it picks up in earnest. Once Sena’s sure that the flame won’t go out, he tosses the bedding inside Tamura’s room. Smoke is already rising and filling up the small cell, tendrils of it escaping to the hallway and reaching the ceiling.

He carries Tamura and sets her far away from the fire while he rests for a moment. If he weren’t injured, he might have tried breaking down the ceiling and carrying the victims to the surface. His throbbing arm and aching muscles ruin that. He’s almost completely spent after helping out _one_ person. His best bet is to get some strength back before trying to free as many victims as he can before Seijuro locates them.

The smoke thickens and starts accumulating at the ceiling. Any second now and the fire alarm will ring.

The ceiling tiles pull back, and Sena’s expecting the alarm to start sounding soon and for sprinklers to go off. Instead, flashing lights start blinking.

Thick metal bars slam down in front of all the cells’ entrances. To Sena’s growing horror, he realizes that these rooms were never meant to be saved should there be a fire.

They were meant to be destroyed, victims and all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there's smoke, there's fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMPLETELY UNEDITED SORRY!!!! But since I gave such a short chapter last time I really wanted to update before the month ended. FINALLY COMFORT IS HERE AT THE VERY END. ALSO!!!! SHINSENA IS HERE. But not as you guys probably want lol. I'm not joking about not editing this. Binge wrote this. Did not reread shit. I fully expect there to be sentences that are like "he roled hes eye." Sometimes this is all I got. I will be editing this later hopefully! Next update should be around August 15th.
> 
> Dr. Sadako Noroi is based off the nameless (as far as I know) manager for the Noroi High Occultist from Chapter 107.
> 
> Content warning @ end

A small, disbelieving sound escapes Sena as the situation sinks in. He’s not sure why he expected members of Hakushu to do anything except have redundancies prepared, but it still guts him.

The smoke pours out of the room. Heat permeates the air, foreboding and insistent. The fire is consuming the interior of the cell and spreading rapidly up the rafters. There’s already flames starting to lick along the door frame, eager to destroy the rest of the storage rooms.

Sena ducks low next to Tamura to avoid the smoke and heat. Both are already irritating his eyes and nose. The heat is almost unbearable against the delicate and exposed flesh of his battered hand. Tamura is still unconscious and totally unaware. Sena wonders if Tamura and the others will feel the fire if things don’t work out.

What awful, gruesome deaths. Burned lungs from inhaling super-heated and toxic vapor, oppressive heat searing nerve endings, the actual flames eating up tissue and evaporating vital fluids. Undeserved deaths. And it’ll be Sena’s fault. Sena’s conscious throbs.

He’s not sure if she can hear him. Morbidly, he hopes that she can’t sense anything that is happening just in case things… go wrong.

“Ms. Tamura, it’s going to be okay,” Sena whispers. He needs to hear reassurance himself just as much, maybe more. “Dark Knight is on his way, and—and I have the situation under control. I’m a h-hero,” he continues, voice tight and trembling. “Hang tight while we take care of it.”

The Captain is always one to talk about percentages; his calculations are correct down to the seventh decimal place. What survival percentage does Sena have now? Seriously injured, trapped, and slipping in and out of consciousness. Is it a 0.01% chance of making it out alive? 0.0001%? Less than that?

Seijuro’s voice echoes in his head: _Is that it?_

No. Sena’s always admired Dark Knight’s discipline and unwavering spirit. Sena can be tenacious. As long as he has a non-zero chance, he can keep fighting. He’ll protect the first person he’s ever rescued and all the others he hasn’t gotten to yet. He’ll keep everyone as far from the fire as possible and situate them under the storage area’s hidden entrance. It’ll give the victims the best chance at being rescued by Dark Knight. He doesn’t know how many he’ll be able to reach. He’ll see how far he gets before the fire consumes him.

Between fire and ice, Sena thinks he prefers the fire. He’s never been good in the cold anyway.

. . .

The music stops to a halt as guests take in the man at the ballroom’s entrance, unsure what to make of Gao. There’s horns growing out of his forehead. His skin is covered in reptilian scales. He looks like he’d doubled in size.

“Everybody exit the premises now!” Seijuro shouts, not taking his eyes off of Gao. He reaches into his pocket for the emergency com signal. It’s disguised as a pen and the only thing security didn’t make them leave behind before entering the Maruko residence. Seijuro clicks the pen, activating the distress signal.

The crowd is still frozen in place despite Seijuro’s warning. He knows they’re uncertain and scared, but thinking that they’re safe in the volume of the crowd is dangerous.

“So you’re the other hero then?” Gao asks, grinning wildly. His teeth are razor sharp fangs. He steps through the crowd that parts for him warily.

“Where is my partner?” Dark Knight asks, stepping into the center of the ballroom. The security detail has quietly left, their job to ensure the protection of the Marukos and not necessarily the guests.

“Who knows? Probably having a good time.”

Anger spikes through Seijuro’s stomach at the tone Gao uses: dismissive, sarcastic. Gao is mocking Seijuro for not knowing Sena’s whereabouts. Another possibility strikes Seijuro. Perhaps Sena did not merrily trot off with Maruko. Perhaps he was forced to follow. Perhaps it’s connected with the secret auctions he suspects happening.

“Where is he?” Seijuro demands again.

“I’m not letting you escape. Marco told me you’re strong, and I’ve been itching to go all out. You’re staying here as long as I want.”

Gao roughly shoulders past a young woman as he looms closer to Seijuro, sending her sprawling to the floor. Her glass shatters on the marble. This breaks the trance the crowd was under. The air prickles as the circumstances become clear to the attendees. Within seconds, the crowd is screaming, stampeding to get out of the ballroom. Glass and dining ware clatter to the ground as people fall in an effort to escape.

Seijuro needs to end this as quickly as possible.

Gao charges forward, faster than his build would suggest. He shoots his right hand out, Seijuro parrying it in time. The strength behind it is immense and pushes Seijuro back a bit. Gao just grins wider, eyes sharp.

Gao’s fighting style is animalistic. He doesn’t use any particular fighting technique. His attacks are straightforward and brimming with killing intent. It’s different than fighting against Devilbat. Devilbat hides his strikes behind feints, uses the shadows, ghosts his way through fights. He’s elusive. Devilbat is almost irritating to fight against with how fast he is. There are times that Seijuro feels he’s chasing after Devilbat in their confrontations which goes against Dark Knight’s training. Although fighting against Gao has the explicit threat of serious injury, he’s a bigger target than Devilbat and has a simple offense. It pairs well with Dark Knights impeccable defense.

Seijuro dodges another attack that cracks the wall where Seijuro’s head had been seconds before. Seijuro launches Gao back onto a pyramid of champagne flutes before trying to aid a few civilians that got caught up in Gao’s destruction.

“You’re getting distracted,” Gao rumbles.

Seijuro looks over his shoulder to see Gao closing in on an injured civilian, teeth glinting. Seijuro sprints forward, tackling Gao in the ribs, but Gao leans into it, lowering his center of gravity. Gao has horrific strength. It’s impossible that the Kingdom didn’t know about such a monster. Seijuro grits his teeth as he stops one of Gao’s fists with his hand.

The civilian scrambles away, limping but alive.

“Stand down,” Seijuro tells Gao, though he knows it’s no use. “Do not make me use force.”

“If you hold back, I’ll just kill you.” Gao eyes the crowd still trying to leave through the congested exits. “I’ll give you incentive.”

Gao roars. He uses his superior height to leverage himself over Dark Knight and get access to the civilians. Seijuro rolls to his feet quickly.

There’s a beat of extreme hush. Then:

A chorus of air-piercing screams of pain as Gao crushes the civilians closest to him with a sweep of his arm.

Seijuro launches himself onto Gao’s back moments later and applies a rear naked choke. Gao instinctively lets go to try and dig his fingers into Seijuro’s suffocating hold. Seijuro pitches both of them backwards, now able to put his entire body weight into the choke.

Seijuro tightens his grip, pressing into the arteries in Gao’s neck. Gao is not a violence-driven fighter. Their fight would have ended long ago if that were case. Gao is intelligent and more terrifying for it. His struggling isn’t just random thrashing but articulated attacks in the weak points of the choke hold. Seijuro strengthens his resolve, muscles straining.

Gao strikes Seijuro’s temple, still strong enough to make Seijuro see stars. A few seconds later, Gao goes limp. His mutations recede. Seijuro doesn’t know how long he has before Gao comes to, but he estimates he has a few minutes. Mutation superpowers put an increased stress on the body.

As Seijuro looks across the room at injured civilians, he momentarily berates himself for being too slow. A better hero would have taken Gao out without a single injury to civilians. A better hero wouldn’t have lost track of their hero partner. He puts that out of his mind while he carefully collects the injured and carries them to the main lobby.

He checks his pocket for the emergency com device to resend the signal, only to find that it got crushed during the fight. At least he sent it out earlier.

Through the large windows, Seijuro sees the crowd ignore the valets as they scurry to their cars. The lush lawn is trampled and torn up by their tires in their hurry to escape. Reckless and self-serving, but safe at least. He makes his rounds through all the rooms, informing stragglers to exit the premises as quickly as possible.

There’s no sign of Sena anywhere.

He makes a quick check out in the courtyard. Empty all the way down. The guests who had been outside must have heard the commotion and left. He’s about to turn back when he notices the heat radiating from the pavement. Where the slabs of concrete meet, there’s wisps of smoke curling up.

Seijuro wraps his shirt around his nose and mouth. He hacks against the pavement with his fists when he doesn’t see else anything he can use. The concrete is already weak from the heat and fire and starts crumbling against Seijuro’s onslaught. Smoke boils up, furious and dark, stinging at Seijuro’s eyes. Intense heat flows past him, but Seijuro grits through it. With a few more strikes, the unsteady ground collapses enough to make a sizable entry to the underground passage.

The smoke tapers off, and Seijuro peers into the inferno below.

Fire eats up at the walls alarmingly fast. There must be some sort of accelerant in the building materials which would also explain the relative ease with which Seijuro was able to destroy the false roof. Paired with the lack of alarms and fire sprinklers, the Marukos do not want anyone to see what’s below. Seijuro’s not suited up for a fire, but he doesn’t think the pavement can handle an entry specifically for ventilation without completely collapsing, so he does what his judgement deems best.

Seijuro carefully lowers himself underground. He lands atop debris of the pavement and the wreckage of the surrounding hall. The southern portion of the underground space is mostly cut off by a wall of fire. Most of blaze seems to be concentrated on that side. Some lights flicker weakly, but the space is mostly dark and choked with smoke.

Seijuro spots a figure tucked as far away from the fire. Seijuro rushes over, but it’s not Sena. It’s a woman. Her pulse is weak but stable beneath her cold skin when he checks. Breathing shallow. Unconscious. Attached to an IV drip with signs of other medical devices having been removed. She’s wearing a medical gown, possibly suggesting more victims. There’s a thick collar around her neck with vials attached to it like jewels. Seijuro’s seen those vials before. Her mouth and nose have been covered by a torn, damp rag. Whoever helped her is still around.

“This is Dark Knight with the Kingdom League,” Seijuro shouts in the direction of the fire. “Help is arriving soon. Is anyone else in here?”

There’s a muffled call past the wall of flames. Sena bursts through it at his light speed, jacket covering his face. He makes it a few more paces before tilting forward. Seijuro just manages to keep Sena from crashing into the ground.

Seijuro drags him to where the unconscious woman is, keeping low to avoid the worst of the heat and smoke. He knows they won’t have much longer before they’ll have exit for their own safety, but with them working together, they should be able to round up any possible victims. Seijuro is half-way through concocting a plan when he gets a good look at Devilbat.

There’s dried blood sprayed along his pallid face and torn clothes, some of it smeared by sweat. His eyes are glossed over, half-open, and his body is shaking violently, almost to the point of convulsing. His skin is covered in burns and scrapes, which puzzles Seijuro as those are injuries that Devilbat heals easily. Sena lets out a whine. Seijuro looks down to where Sena’s cradling one hand to his chest. In the dim light all he can see is the dark splattering of blood and the unnatural angles of his fingers.

“Can you hear me?” Seijuro asks urgently, smoke making his voice hoarse. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

Sena’s unresponsive. His heartbeat, though faint and sluggish, is at least steady.

Seijuro secures both Sena and the woman before emerging back on the surface. He sets them down carefully, away from the unstable ground.

He turns back around to see Reiji Maruko standing in wide-eyed shock at the destruction of his courtyard. He’s wearing a heavy duty breathing apparatus.

“Uh…” Reiji Maruko rubs the back of his head. “This is a little awkward.”

Seijuro takes one step forward, ready to spring at Maruko, before Maruko holds up a remote.

“Now hold on,” Maruko stammers. “I saw what you did to Gao, and _holy_ _shit_. I have no interest in messing with you.” Maruko smiles a bit, a natural cockiness seeping into his posture. “You also might want to relax, or the fire will get worse. I was just coming by to see how dear Chrome was doing after our little date.”

Seijuro narrows his eyes. “What did you do to him?”

“Jealousy makes you ugly.” Maruko smirks. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

Seijuro takes another step forward, but Maruko waves the remote in warning. Sena is a formidable opponent. No matter how strong Maruko may be under his playboy façade, he would have needed help in taking Sena down.

“You’re lying.”

Maruko pauses, coolly analyzing Seijuro as much as Seijuro is analyzing Maruko. “You’re really getting in the way of my special night. Very troublesome. How about I don’t use the remote in exchange for you letting me get away, huh?”

“The fire will spread rapidly even if you honored your end of the deal,” Seijuro says, “which you were not planning to. You are wasting my time.”

“Ah, I hate giving away unnecessary information.” Rolling a shoulder in annoyance, Maruko finally says, “There are thirty-nine people below us being cooked alive as we speak. And as for our dear Chrome, he’ll be slipping into a coma soon unless you give him the antidote within the next few minutes. If he didn’t get so banged up, he might’ve just survived, but now? Well...” Maruko shrugs. “But since I’m so kind, here.” Maruko tosses a vial at Seijuro.

Maruko’s not lying. Seijuro can read the unambiguous truth in every line of Maruko’s stance. Seijuro feels frozen in place. Thirty-nine people trapped and burning to death.

A black jeep sharply rounds a corner as it makes its way over to them, trampling the greenery in its path.

“You really going to chase after me now?” Maruko asks as the car screeches to a halt behind him. A door opens, Maruko steps inside. “Oh, and the antidote? Has to be delivered mouth-to-mouth.” The door closes. “Ah, I’m such a perv.”

The driver yells at Maruko as she swerves past Seijuro. Gao sits in the back, still dazed. Seijuro sees Maruko press the remote, and the Maruko mansion goes up in flames. Seijuro throws himself over Sena and the unconscious woman to shield them from the smoldering fallout.

The underground hall doesn’t follow suit. Seijuro wonders if it was his doing.

Guilt weighs heavily on Seijuro’s shoulders. If he goes back underground, he’ll likely get seriously hurt. The hidden space is a ticking time bomb. Seijuro smells the leaking ammonia in the air. Backup will arrive soon. Seijuro only has the partial story. If other heroes don’t get here in time, they’ll need more witnesses. They’ll need Sena.

He looks at the vial in his hand. It’s about as long as his finger and curved like an hour glass. Along the curves, there’s a painted image of lips. The instruction of how to use it must be to slot their lips along the bends at the same time.

There’s no other option. Seijuro puts the vial against his mouth and then presses his mouth against his greatest adversary, Devilbat. A mechanism clicks in the vial, and the liquid starts draining from it. Some of it spills, until Seijuro realizes he’ll have to open Sena’s jaw. Seijuro eases Sena’s jaw open with his hand. Sena’s lips part easily. Seijuro pushes the last of the antidote into Sena’s mouth with his tongue, before backing away.

Revulsion and shame fill Seijuro. Sena is his subordinate and his enemy and unconscious. Under the string lights that are hung above them, he can see the torture Sena was put through, and it just makes Seijuro feel worse. He wants to destroy the antidote’s vial, but it’s evidence that they’ll need.

Seijuro’s always strived to be someone worthy of being called a hero, but maybe he is no better than the rumors spread about him.

The bite of ammonia increases in the air, a leak from the main line somewhere, and the underground auction finally blows up as the search lights of a Kingdom League helicopter shine against Seijuro.

. . .

Realizing that he survived the fire takes a few moments to really sink in for Sena. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, so he focuses on the facts. He’s extremely thirsty, for one. There’s a pitcher with ice water on the side table next to him. He pours himself a half-full glass and takes slow sips. From experience, he knows that chugging water will only lead to vomiting. He sets his glass down. Second fact is that he’s in a hospital in some sort of medical room. There’s only one bed. He can’t be at Deimon’s since the decoration isn’t gaudy enough. Tsuyumine certainly would never allow flowers at his bedside gurney.

The door opens and in walks a doctor rolling a cart covered in food. She has silvery-blonde hair held back by a daisy headband except for bangs that brush low over her eyes. She can’t be older than fifty.

Oh, right.

Third: Sena doesn’t have his mask on.

“Hello, Eventide,” the doctor says in a calm voice before Sena can really go into panic mode. “My name is Dr. Sadako Noroi, the head doctor of the Kingdom League.”

“Please eat your fill,” Dr. Noroi motions to the cart. “And don’t be shy, this is all for you. You depleted a large amount of energy healing.”

“Thank you,” Sena says, already breaking the yolk of a fried egg over his rice. It’s amazing. He realizes how hungry he is the moment he takes his first bite, like his body was trying to shield him from the truth to protect him.

“Now, you probably have a lot of questions, but please let me ask a few questions myself first, okay?”

Sena nods.

Dr. Noroi doesn’t say anything.

A moment passes. Then a few more.

“Ah,” she says, “I’m blind. Could you please confirm that you understood?”

“Oh!” Sena squeaks. “Sorry, yes, p-please ask away.”

“It’s okay. Let me start off by saying that our doctor-patient confidentiality applies even though you are a hero.”

“Intern,” Sena quietly corrects. “I—I’m not a hero.”

Dr. Noroi smiles gently. “Either way, please know that you can trust me with anything.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Um, fine?” Sena eats another octopus sausage. He has a slight headache, but all the burns and tears healed up. His stares at his left hand, expecting it to break if he turns back and forth enough times, but it remains looking normal, all fingers functional. There’s a funny nauseous feeling he gets after staring at it for too long, though. “Actually, I feel great. How long was I asleep?”

“Just under fifteen hours.”

Sena fumbles with his chopsticks. “Fifteen hours?!”

“You did go through quite a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess, it’s just that usually I don’t sleep more than maybe three, so—” Sena clicks his mouth shut when he notices Dr. Noroi typing into her tablet. “Anyway, yes, I feel healthy.”

“How much do you remember?”

“I think most of it except for the very end.” The mission, the soiree, Marco, being drugged, the cell… “It gets kind of spotty, and then it goes to me waking up here.”

“That’s normal given your condition.”

Dr. Noroi continues asking him questions while Sena steadily devours everything on the cart. He likes Dr. Noroi, she’s sweet and knowledgeable and genuinely caring. Sena feels safe with her.

“Wait, how’s Ms. Tamura? And Dark Knight?”

“Dark Knight is healthy. Ms. Tamura is in the ICU, currently, but her prognosis is looking good.” Dr. Noroi squeezes Sena’s hand. “You did extremely well given the circumstances. I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“What about… the others?”

“The other heroes are fine as well. You and Dark Knight took the brunt of the damage.”

“Ah,” Sena says. The beeping of his heart monitor increases.

“Everything all right, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sena says hoarsely.

“I’ll let you rest up a bit more and check up on you in an hour or so. In the meantime, there should be some visitors stopping by to see you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Noroi.” Sena doesn’t bother to force a smile as she exits.

Visitors? Probably Archangel, maybe some people from HR. Possibly Seijuro. He doesn’t really want to see any of them at the moment. He wants to talk to Suzuna about every day stuff over some snacks at Doze and ignore what Sena just went through. It feels like a lifetime ago that they saw each other. He misses her.

Idly, he takes one of the flower arrangements onto his lap. White poppies and purple hyacinths according to the note card. No name or message was included. Well, he likes them anyway. The other floral arrangement is grander, bright red roses situated next to darker crimson ones. The note is signed simply as _M._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con kiss happens and also Marco is here being Marco. No one feels good about it :0


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sena gets some rest, some visitors, and some questions, not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I'm going to edit this :)  
> also me: Im GoInG tO eDiT tHiS
> 
> Not as much tender loving care as I would have liked. Lots of dialogue in here, plus, somehow, more plot. However, I think this chap may be subject to change depending on whether I'm too heavy handed on certain things or not. End of the Hakushu arc finally! Next few chapters will be ShinSena fluff, and I, for one, am super excited.

The flowers cut through the sterile smell of the hospital room with their soft aroma, but they make him feel uneasy. Especially the elaborate rose display in the crystal vase. Logically, he knows whoever was in his room had to have the appropriate clearance to see him in the first place, but he doesn’t like the idea of someone being around when he was so vulnerable. Especially when delivering something from Marco.

His stomach does an upset little flip when he thinks about Marco and the entire night at the Maruko mansion. How he was whisked away by Marco and failed to escape. That’s something he can’t stop replaying. His foresight had been cut off, and the surprise had made it easier for him to be captured. The sounds, smells, textures of the underground are both vague and randomly intricate. He can’t recall at all what the interior of the cells looked like, but he knows how many ceiling tiles there had been.

He knows how many people had been down there with him, but not how many had survived. Tamura is one. He’s two. There should be more. He wants there to be more survivors, but in the silence of the hospital room with just the faint hum of machinery, he remembers the roaring of the fire, and below that, a softer sound escaping from every room, barely audible but poignant and piercing.

He sips more ice water and steadies his breath.

Knocking at the door snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Come in,” he says, recognizing Archangel and Golden Era. His eyes linger on the door, waiting for Seijuro to appear though he knows he’s not here.

“Hi, Eventide,” Archangel says as she rushes in. Her numerous wings tuck closely to her body in order to fit through the door. She’s in her hero gear—breastplate, white robes, sword at her side—but when she pushes her eyeguard back against her hair, her eyes are rimmed red with concern. She almost looks like she wants to hug Sena as she hovers over him. “How are you? How are you feeling? We were so worried!”

“Let the kid breathe a little,” Golden Era says, also in full hero regalia. He ties a handful of helium _Feel Better_ balloons to the metal headboard. He pulls a pair of stools close to the bed for him and Archangel to sit. “You’re tougher than you look. Came in looking like minced meat.”

“Um, I’m fine,” Sena says. He’s not used to having people so openly concerned for him. “I’m actually surprised by how well I healed.”

“I think we all are,” Golden Era says. “You almost gave Archangel a heart attack.”

“Eventide,” Archangel says and lightly places her hand atop of Sena’s. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. It’s my fault. We didn’t have enough intel. We didn’t analyze the situation fully. We weren’t prepared. You shouldn’t have gone on that mission, even with Dark Knight.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Sena stutters. “I’m—I’m okay, so…”

Archangel squeezes Sena’s hand before letting go, “I’m beyond relieved everything turned out okay, but as the leader of the Kingdom League, I bear the responsibility for negligence. No one wants to see you hurt.”

“But…”

“Archangel is laying it on a bit thick,” Golden Era says. “We just want to make sure you’re able to have a hero career after interning with us.”

“A hero career,” Sena repeats, blinking.

“We’ll be taking extra measures in the future so something like this doesn’t happen again,” Archangel says.

“Desk work?” Sena asks. “W-will Dark Knight still be my partner?”

Archangel pauses. “Do you want to keep working with him?”

“Y-Yes! I like Dark Knight,” Sena says. “Ah, well, working with him. He’s a good hero partner.”

Archangel and Golden Era share a brief look.

“Okay,” Archangel says tightly. She sets her eyeguard in place. “There’s some paperwork to be done after you’re fully discharged. You’ll still be doing field work as required per your contract, but it won’t be nearly as dangerous.”

“It’ll be patrols, mostly,” Golden Era says. “Easy stuff. Dark Knight hates it. It’s kind of funny seeing him so annoyed.”

“Is Dark Knight okay?” Sena asks.

“Don’t worry about him,” Golden Era says. “He came out practically unscathed.”

“We brought you a few things as well.” Archangel hands Sena a cloth tote bag.

Sena peeks inside: a new mask, a few changes of clothes, some snacks.

“What about my hero costume?”

“Not until you’ve been cleared by Dr. Noroi,” Archangel says, hands on her hips.

Sena’s head swivels to the door. “Is someone else with you? Um… Dyadic?”

“You alive or what?” Dyadic asks from the door.

“Y-yes, fine—alive, I mean” Sena says. He grabs the sheets tightly. Dyadic’s personality is almost a complete one-eighty from the mild mannered man Sena thought he was.

“Accelerated healing? Revolutionary.” Sarcasm drips from Dyadic’s tone. He taps his bandaged fingers against the doorframe. “The brat’s fine. Let’s go, we’re going to be fucking late.” Dyadic slams the door as he leaves.

“Always a pleasure that guy,” Golden Era says, his ever-present smile cracking. “Unsui should have stayed.”

Archangel gives a long suffering sigh. “We’re giving a statement to the media in a few minutes, and that side of Dyadic knows how to work a crowd.”

“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t scare a nurse,” Golden Era ruffles Sena’s hair lightly before heading out the door. “Rest up. Japan’s already missing its number one intern out there.”

Sena barely manages a goodbye from how flustered he is. Every time they mention him being a hero, Sena’s conscious throbs. If only they knew.

Archangel stays a moment longer. She refills his glass and sets it on the coaster, taking care to leave the drink within Sena’s reach.

“Thank you for your hard work,” she says gently.

“Of course,” Sena says, playing with the tote bag.

“I think… well, in the world of professional heroes, there’s not many that look like you.”

“You mean small…”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Archangel says. “I think you could inspire a lot of people to be brave, especially those that aren’t the cookie-cutter version of what heroes look like. That’s why it’s important you stay here with us. I know it’s very soon, but think about where you want to be once your internship ends.”

Inside the tote bag, Sena’s hands are shaking. It’s no use trying to hide his nerves. His heart monitor gives him away with the slight increase in beeping.

“Just think about it. Oh, before I forget,” Archangel hands Sena a small tub of degreaser. “I grabbed the special paint remover from your locker.” She hovers a second longer, hands partially outstretched, before dropping them to her side. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

A few minutes later, soft knocking—Inari, he recognizes—sounds from the door. She pokes her head in.

“Hello,” Inari says quietly.

“Hi,” Sena says, just as quiet.

“Um…I brought you a gift.” Inari shuffles in. “I… I didn’t realize your hand was injured, I’m so sorry!” Inari hands over a small watercolor kit.

“I’m healed, s-so it’s okay! Thank you, Inari,” Sena insists, turning the kit over in his hands. He’s pleasantly surprised at the gift. It’ll be nice to have something to do since he doesn’t have a phone or TV in the room.

Inari bows, “Ah, Karin is fine. You don’t have to call me that.”

“Eh?” Sena bows in response. “No, no, I couldn’t! That’s not respectful!”

“I’m not even on the clock!” She gestures to her Kingdom League official track suit, a favorite in hero lounge wear. (Sena may or may not have tried getting a knock off.) “Calling me by my hero name is too formal.”

“O-okay, um, Karin,” Sena says, blushing to the roots of his hair. Suzuna would die of jealousy.

“I didn’t know how long you’d be in here. I thought watercolors could help pass the time. How is your recovery coming along? I heard your injuries were—severe.”

The flesh of Sena’s left hand is smooth and plump, no sign of anything that happened. He feels a twinge deep in his muscles but it could just be his mind playing tricks on him. “Dr. Noroi said I’m mostly healed. They’re just finishing up some tests I think.” They share a beat of silence. “Did you grow these?”

“Ah, I hope that’s not too weird. I didn’t mean anything by the roses! Those are just the only flowers I can grow.” Her eyes slide back to the other flowers next to Sena, and her cheeks go pink. “Please tell your partner I meant no ill will.”

“My partner? Dark Knight?”

“You two _are_ t-together?!”

“W-what?!”

Karin lets out a shaky laugh. “Sorry, I think I confused myself. I saw the flowers and thought the rumors were true after all, since he asked for help in selecting some flowers, and then I see them here along with roses…”

“Ah,” Sena says, trying to hide his red face behind his hands. “N-No, we—that’s—the rumors—ah…” Sena blinks. “He got me flowers?”

Karin nods.

“Dark Knight got me _these_ flowers?”

Karin nods again. “I thought it was a little strange when he asked for my advice.” Karin frowns slightly. “Sorry for speculating.”

Sena glances at the flowers then back at Karin. “Do they… mean something?”

“They can,” Karin says. When Sena nods, Karin takes Seijuro’s floral arrangement into her lap and traces the blooms. “Purple hyacinths for sorrow… white poppies for consolation… tulips for new beginnings. It reads like he’s asking for your forgiveness and that he hopes you both can start again.”

“R-really?”

“It’s not an exact science, and the language of flowers varies widely from country to country, and of course I can’t read his mind,” Karin waves her hands, trying to regain her focus. Sena didn’t notice until now how tired she looks. She works the earliest hero shift so the visit is cutting into her sleep. “But given what I know, that would be my best guess.”

“What about these?” Sena nudges at the roses Marco ordered.

Karin’s cheeks turn bright pink again. “These are from your p-partner right?”

“They—I’m—I don’t know who they’re from,” Sena finally manages to say. “I’m not d-dating anyone.”

“W-well,” Karin says, “you might have an admirer. These roses are somewhere between coral and orange which, ah, represents desire. But the darker crimson ones mean mourning. Perhaps they’re saying they’re heartsick and that they miss you.”

Sena shrivels up. “No, no, no, that can’t be. These probably were just the cheapest flowers that someone sent.”

“Like I said, there’s no exact meaning to this. Sometimes flowers are just flowers.”

They share a quiet pause, neither quite sure what to say.

“Thank you for stopping by,” Sena says after a few moments and finds himself genuinely meaning it. They don’t really know each other besides their first introduction and a handful of pleasantries after that. Karin doesn’t have any sort of agenda to be here; she’s just visiting out of concern for a fellow team member. It feels nice to have people check up on him because they care. At Deimon, the visits were perfunctory and cold, though that’s to be expected from the Captain.

“Of course,” Karin says. Her hands are tightly clasped against her lap with resolve. She straightens in her seat. “I know we haven’t really gotten a chance to speak much… but… I want you to know that you’re doing a good job. Everyone on the team is very impressed by your grit and hard work.”

“Oh,” Sena says, a bit shakily. He’s never received much in the way of positive verbal reinforcement. He doesn’t really know how to handle it. Embarrassingly, there’s some moisture gathering at his eyes. “Um, thanks.”

“I don’t mean to speculate again, but,” Karin purses her lips, looking for the right words. “I think we’re kind of similar. At least, you remind myself of me when I was first starting out my pro hero career. I was always so unsure of myself and my abilities and my place on the team. I wasted a lot of time and energy doubting myself. I don’t want you to think that way. You belong here.” Then Karin deflates a little when she sees Sena sniffling. “Ah, no, I’m sorry! Was it something I said? Are you okay? Should I get the doctor?”

“No,” Sena says, choking back tears. “I think it’s just the medication making me, um, susceptible.”

“R-right, of course, I’ll head out so you can rest!” Karin hesitates at the door, like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, before bowing once more as she leaves.

Once her footsteps are out of his hearing range, Sena sinks into his pillow and pulls the sheets over his head to hide the gifts in shame. He’s a traitor. A villain. He’s probably risked the lives of all of the Kingdom League’s staff at one point or another as Devilbat. He doesn’t deserve all this kindness.

A brief flutter of pain ghosts through his left hand, along where the flesh had been shorn off. Phantom pain. A manifestation of his guilt, maybe. Good. That’s what he deserves, not the unerring kindness from the top heroes of Japan. All of this pretending is exhausting. He rolls on his side, lashes fluttering closed.

_The air burns, rancid and hot, and the smell of it is almost as bad as the—_

“Eventide? Eventide?”

Sena finds himself being gently shaken awake by Dr. Noroi. He blinks groggily, fighting off the end of the nightmare.

“Is everything okay?” Sena asks.

“Just need to do some hourly checks now that you’re awake. Feel free to eat once we’re done. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Sena sits on the edge of the bed as Dr. Noroi goes through the routine checks. Sena openly stares, curious.

“It’s okay, you can go ahead and ask,” Dr. Noroi says, tapping away at her tablet.

“How…?” Sena trails off, unsure how to phrase his question.

“How can I see what I’m doing?”

“Sorry.” Sena squirms in his seat. “Yes. Sorry, Dr. Noroi.”

“I don’t mind the question much anymore.” She ties off Sena’s upper arm with a rubber band. Sterilizes part of his forearm. She inserts the needle and attaches one of the tubes. It fills with blood. She repeats the process with the other test tubes as she continues speaking. “When I was eleven, I started losing my eyesight. I also gained my power at the same time. I can sense sudden changes in the human body. The best way to describe it is as a glowing progression of the change. Fairly useless. But combined with a deep knowledge of the human body? Fairly useful. I can more or less ‘see’ a person’s physical medical history that way.”

She collects the test tubes in a plastic bin and wheels the food cart close to Sena.

“Do you feel light headed at all?”

“No, still doing well,” Sena says between bites of pork belly.

“Good.” Dr. Noroi types a few more notes into her tablet before sitting at the foot of the bed. She drops her voice. “I know you said you’re feeling fine, physically, but is there anything else that might be worrying you?”

Sena’s a walking bundle of nerves that finds something to stress about before breakfast. There’s a _lot_ that worries him. He doesn’t think Dr. Noroi will like that answers, so he goes with, “Not really.”

Dr. Noroi weighs her next words carefully. “I know very little about your mission and the aftermath. The Kingdom League has let very little information slip. What I do know is that the Maruko mansion is being treated as a crime scene. This can be a lot for anyone of any age, but especially younger people.”

Something ticks at Sena’s brain.

“Eventide, I’m going to ask you something very serious, okay?”

“O-okay.” Sena wills his heart to stop beating so fast.

“Do you need help?”

“Eh?”

“Usually my power shows things like broken bones, surgeries, that sort of thing. Isolated areas, isolated events.” Dr. Noroi grows grim. “But when I apply my power on you, your entire body lights up.”

Sena looks up at her sharply but keeps his mouth closed.

“I have attended numerous patients for over a decade now. What your body has gone through is more than even what the average hero will go through in their career.” She lowers her voice to a bare whisper. “Did anything… happen to you where you were training?”

Sena bites his lip. If Dr. Noroi can see surgeries, then it’s probably the tests and augmentations Hiruma and Tsuyumine have done to him over the past year and some change that’s causing the concern. Sena hadn’t realized they’d done _this_ much.

“Not that I can remember? Is it bad?”

“Not necessarily. You’ve healed, after all. It’s just—an outlier,” Dr. Noroi says carefully. She grabs the plastic bin and gets up, rolling the now empty food cart with her. “I’ll have these samples run. It’s looking like you’ll be discharged after your next checkup.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, dear.”

Sena uses water from the pitcher to wet the paint bricks. His room doesn’t have any windows, but he tries painting a landscape of a neighborhood, one he wishes he could live in. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t an artist before he joined Deimon. He’s not a good painter. It’s fun anyway, being able to create and mold a piece, have some semblance of control. It also is a nice way to pass the time. He’ll have to get Karin a thank you card later.

He looks up when he hears Dark Knight’s familiar gait walking down the hallway and pausing at the door.

“Come in,” Sena says before Seijuro has a chance to knock. These conversations are better when they’re done sooner rather than later.

Seijuro locks the door behind him. If it were anyone else, that act alone would scare Sena, but this is Seijuro. Sena’s nervous, but not because of being in a locked room with Dark Knight.

Sena’s about to speak when Seijuro motions for him to be quiet. He scans the room critically, pacing around the room a few times, looking behind machinery, before relaxing.

“You’re doing well,” Seijuro says, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, I’m almost cleared to leave.” Sena puts the watercolor kit to one side, unable to stop fidgeting with it. “Are you okay?”

“I was discharged this morning.”

“Oh.” Sena picks at the sheets. It’s close to 6 pm. Sena knows that Seijuro has better things to do than check up on him. He knows that. It shouldn’t hurt his feelings. “Your team stopped by earlier.”

Seijuro pulls out a legal pad and a pen. “We have a mission report to work on,” he says, straight to the point. “I have already logged everything that occurred up until we got separated at approximately 10:27 pm. As part of your internship, you are required to submit your account of the events as supplementary information. What do you remember from the mission after we got separated?”

“Marco—well, he knew that I was undercover.”

“Marco? Do you mean Reiji Maruko?” Seijuro asks, pausing his notes.

“Yeah, he goes by Marco. I guess we didn’t know that. I don’t remember it when we were briefed.”

“We didn’t receive that information,” Seijuro says. “Where did he take you?”

“To the courtyard. That’s where he found me out. Or, I think he knew from the beginning, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t let on about it until we were in outside. I tried to get back to you, but Marco has some sort of power I think—he tracked all of my movements. I couldn’t escape him.” The bedsheets are extremely interesting to Sena. He doesn’t want to look up from them. “Gao was there for a little. Marco told him to find my partner—to find you. Did he—what happened?”

“We fought. I temporarily incapacitated him. Please continue.”

“Okay.” Sena’s fists are clenched. His throat feels tight. There’s the beginning of a headache forming. He doesn’t want to say what happened aloud. “There was this underground storage area. It was—a giant f-freezer where they were k-keeping people. He—I was—.” Shame festers next to Sena’s heart. He was drugged and put on display like an object. “Marco has this drug that was, well… an aphrodisiac I think. And he—he injected me with it. Chained me to a bed in this tiny room down there.”

“What did he do to you?” Seijuro asks, a slight edge in his tone.

“N-Nothing,” Sena says. “He had to go before—I don’t know. It was really hard escaping. I have no idea how long it took for me to get out.” He traces along his tingling left hand. “The hallway was filled with rooms, and p-people inside each cell.” Sena clears his throat, but his voice still comes out thick. “I was s-so stupid. I… I thought the fire alarm would be the best way to alert you. I didn’t have any other way to contact you. Dr. Noroi said that Tamura was here. Did anyone else make it?”

“No,” Seijuro says. “Tamura was the only one.”

Sena’s chest constricts like he’s being crushed by rubble. “I tried saving them,” he chokes out.

“I know.”

Sena’s eyes snap to Seijuro.

“The fire consumed most of the underground building.” Seijuro explains. “Some entrances were partially left with signed of purposeful damage from the outside by someone trying to get in.”

“I wasn’t strong enough.” His lungs won’t cooperate. It’s like admitting a horrific crime, a secret that weighs more now that it’s confessed than when he had kept it harbored.

“You were dehydrated and malnourished, suffering from major blood loss, and under the effect of an unknown drug. There is only so much you can do in that state.”

“You would have been able to save them,” Sena whispers. His breath comes in little broken gasps.

“I cannot judge my performance in a situation I was not present, under conditions I have never experienced.” Dark Knight pause. “You did—well, considering.”

Anxiety, relief, and other feelings Sena can’t quite place, all bubble to the surface. He shudders, eyes burning. Distantly he hears Seijuro reminding him to keep his shoulders down, head high. He follows the instructions until his breathing is normal and the room stops spinning. From the corner of his eye he sees Seijuro observing him, his mask making him look neutral.

This whole time Sena had been dreading Seijuro’s judgement, the verdict that Sena truly was a villain and let all those people burn to death. He’d been dreading that the Seijuro in front of him would act like the Seijuro Sena had dreamt up. He’d been dreading Seijuro looking at Sena with disgust and pity. He hadn’t expected whatever Seijuro had meant.

If Dark Knight says so, Sena will believe it. Maybe. He rubs his eyes harshly. He feels braver, brave enough to continue talking about what happened.

“After that… um, Marco came back and injected me with more of the drug, and he left. The fire was r-really bad. Between me and where Tamura was. It was hard to stay balanced or move much, but I tried. The fire spread… into the other rooms. And… I remember hearing—” Sena closes his eyes. “I heard all of them. The victims. They hadn’t been numbed to the pain. Just… immobilized. They felt everything as the fire—I couldn’t do _anything_ —then I heard your walk. I thought that as long as I could get to you, I could be okay, even if I’m not a hero, so I ran towards you, and there you were.”

Seijuro hasn’t moved a muscle since Sena started talking again.

“I don’t remember what happened after that,” Sena says, feeling drained.

Seijuro puts the legal pad away. “Shortly after rescuing you, Reiji Maruko returned. His intentions were to destroy the entirety of the estate and leave no evidence. There was a—malfunction. We were able to administer an antidote to you, but Maruko escaped. His whereabouts are currently unknown. Yuudai Maruko has been detained. He’s pled guilty.”

“How is that possible?” Sena asks, stunned. “We saw Marco at the scene.”

“The Marukos have an extensive network,” Seijuro says. “The PSIA is looking into the case.”

A villain working under the nose of the Public Security Intelligence Agency. Sena gulps. It’s another major risk.

“Archangel didn’t mention that. Are they taking over the human trafficking case?”

“They are since there’s more at play,” Seijuro says. “Some of the victims’ remains were recovered. They found a pattern.”

Sena winces at the reminder of his failure. Previous to this, Sena had never been directly responsible anyone’s death. Now his kill count is in double digits.

“They were able to be matched to dental records of some. Young, missing persons, and they all had powers, albeit weak ones.”

“Sometimes people l-like that type of person,” Sena says uneasily. His stomach is in knots. He had seen Hiruma work with dealers that traded exclusively in low-powered ‘stock’. “Sometimes the appeal is them trying to… fight back.”

“Hakushu will be stopped.” Seijuro’s fists are clenched so tightly, Sena worries he’s hurting himself. He should know better than to worry about Dark Knight.

(And yet.)

After a heavy silence, Seijuro unlocks his mask and pulls his hood back.

Much to Sena’s embarrassment, his heart monitor picks up the pace.

“We have five minutes to talk,” Seijuro says. His face is fierce and serious. “I have reason to believe we were set up.”

Ice runs through Sena’s veins at Dark Knight’s words.

“We were not given handlers, you had no emergency signal, and our intel was severely lacking. These were critical failures on all fronts. We were set up to fail.”

“Do you think someone knows about me?” Sena whispers, eyes wide. “Was I supposed to be caught or something?”

“I’m not sure, yet.” Seijuro’s mouth is drawn into a grim line. “It’s possible we were supposed to be injured or caught. The motive is unclear. However, I don’t believe whoever is behind this knew about the underground trafficking ring.”

“What makes you say that?” Sena asks. “If they withheld information about Marco and Gao, then they could have also lied about other things.”

“The fact that PSIA is involved is a major risk. Everything is logged and documented, including information gathering. If they have any suspicions, they’ll audit the Kingdom and seek out discrepancies.” Seijuro lets out a sharp, annoyed breath. “Your cover will be under scrutiny.”

Sena worries at his bottom lip. The PSIA does their job well. It’s one agency Hiruma has called ‘annoying’, which only cements their efficiency. “Do you have any idea who it is?”

“No. It could be anyone working from any department. However, there’s one last thing.” Seijuro fishes out a vial from his pack. “Do you notice anything?”

“Marco used vials like those.”

“Anything else?”

“Um… it’s empty?”

Seijuro gives him a flat look, and Sena grimaces back.

“These vials are the same ones Antidote uses,” Seijuro says. “This was the only vial recovered from the scene. I haven’t shown it to anyone yet.”

“You think Antidote is associated with M-Marco and Hakushu?” Sena recalled that Antidote went to America for a long term mission shortly after the intern fair. But still…

“This could be an extensive group working together. On the other hand, it could just be the same manufacturer.”

“What do we do now?” Sena asks.

“Proceed with extreme caution.” For a moment, Dark Knight looks worn out, but it’s just a flash of desperation in his face before it’s smoothed out to a neutral demeanor. He clasps his mask on again, distant once more. “The rest of the Kingdom hasn’t been briefed on everything yet. Only the two of us know about the vials.”

Sena has hundreds of questions he wants to ask, but knows better than to blurt them out. If Seijuro thinks it’s best to keep some information between themselves, Sena will go with it. Between giving important information to an unknown enemy or to a known enemy, Seijuro decided to go with the devil he knows. That’s some sort of trust, Sena thinks. Better than before.

Sena rests back against the pillows, stares up at the ceiling.

“Is it always like this?” Sena asks quietly.

“Like how?”

“Just—never ending. I mean, we’ll be back in the office tomorrow.”

“Some days are better than others. This was an unprecedented event.” Dark Knight lets out another small breath, almost reluctant. “I’m sorry for what happened.”

“Eh? W-what do you mean?”

“You’re my partner,” Seijuro says, packing up his notes. “I didn’t treat you as such.”

“N-No, but you did! I was the one that got c-captured! You saved me!”

Seijuro stills, processing what Sena said. “My intentions were anything but heroic. I did not want a death weighing on my conscious. Frankly, if I had not saved you…” _my life would have been made a lot easier._ “It’s not sustainable to continue working together like that, especially as new things have come to light. You’re my partner, and I accept that now.”

Seijuro leaves, Sena unable to say anything as he watches him go.

Sena’s mind keeps running in circles, restless after everything he learned. How is he supposed to go back to the Kingdom? It’s bad enough Sena’s there, but now a traitor (possibly traitors) looking to take out Dark Knight for an unexplained reason. Perhaps they do know that Dark Knight is working with Sena, and so they’re trying to weed them out. Sena’s mind continues working a mile a minute until a delivery man walks in.

“Why does this room smell like a perfume-reeking hell?” the delivery man asks from behind the most elaborate, garish floral arrangement Sena has ever seen. Hiruma’s face pops out from the middle of blue and red carnations.

Sena barely chokes down a scream.

“Cap—uh! I mean, uh,” Sena stutters. “H-How did you g-get in here?”

“Know a guy. Plug this in at the agency once you leave. We’re farming data. Don’t have time to get briefed.” Hiruma pulls out a non-descript USB from among the flowers and tosses it to Sena. He notices the roses next to Sena. “Who sent those?”

“Um…” Sena doesn’t know how much he can say or how much Hiruma already knows. “Marco from the H-Hakushu family. He knows where I am.” The thought sends chills through Sena’s body. Even just looking at the flowers makes him feel violated.

Hiruma shakes the roses, but only petals fall to the ground. “Tch. That fucking eyelashes. He sent them to every hospital in the greater Tokyo area.” Still, there’s a tense poise to Hiruma’s shoulders under the frumpy delivery uniform. “What about these wimpy little things?”

“Ah… well… the team did. I mean, the Kingdom League. They all stopped by to s-see how I was doing.”

Hiruma snaps a photo of Sena’s medical sheet. Sena’s tempted to say that’s confidential information, but then Hiruma’s head does a 180 degree turn, and he decides to suffer in silence.

“Did they now?” Hiruma’s grin stretches from ear to ear, all sharp teeth. “Yeah, keep playing their heart string. Sure they’re real fucking concerned about their walking liability.”

Sena chews on his lip. “I think they’re nice.”

Hiruma detaches one of the medical machines from the wall and shoves it into the flowers he brought in. “Which is why they’re playing a sound bite of you saying everything’s fine and dandy to calm the media. They’re using you, moron.”

Intelligently, Sena doesn’t say anything.

Hiruma’s watch beeps. He picks up the flowers again. “Sorry, boss, this was the wrong room,” he says, kicking the door open. Before exiting, he gives Sena calculating stare from under his cap, expression unreadable.

He’s gone as quickly as he entered, leaving Sena with only the USB drive.

. . .

“You’re all clear honey,” Dr. Noroi says. She hands him a business card with just a phone number and email address. “There’s many things we didn’t get a chance to talk about. If anything happens, if you remember anything distressing, you talk to me right away.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sena says, pocketing the card. He’s freshly showered and changed into his own pair of KL lounge wear. His hood is drawn up to cover his hair, and he’s wearing his goggles. It’s surreal, almost. If he remembers anything distressing…

_(The fire raging, and softer, under the roar of the flames, the muffled moaning, a chorus of pain, being consumed by heat)_

“Can I see Ms. Tamura?” Sena asks.

Dr. Noroi stiffens in her seat. She’s bad at hiding her emotions through body language. Sena gets a sinking feeling.

“Tamura had a change for the worse. I’m sure you understand what she went through. She’s in a medically induced coma.”

“Will I… can I see her when she wakes up?”

Dr. Noroi shifts again. “If she wakes up, then yes.”

 _If_ _,_ not _when_. Sena’s left hand tingles, pins and needles poking up from just under his skin. “Thank you, Dr. Noroi,” Sena says. He signs his discharge papers, feeling almost numb. He takes his gifts and flowers, leaving Marco’s roses behind.

“Good luck, Eventide.” Dr. Noroi walks him out to a side entrance where Dark Knight is waiting for him.

Despite everything, maybe because of everything, Sena’s never been happier to see Seijuro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ShinSena has now come from enemies to reluctant (on Shin's part) partners. We love the growth.
> 
> Rip Sena not remembering his k*ss with Shin. Whoops! There will be more in the future :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's get ready to RRRRRRUMBLE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my prolonged absence! I picked up a few hobbies and didn't have time to write. The longer I went without writing, the guiltier I felt. It doesn't help that this chapter isn't super thrilling, but it sets more things for the future, so I didn't even want to write it.
> 
> I think I'll be writing shorter chapters from now on. I always want to write long chapters (5K or more) because I keep thinking of more things I want to include that I might not get to include late, but obviously long chapters are not sustainable for me LOL. Except maybe 2k works from now on? Sorry? ALSO ARE YALL EXCITED FOR THE SHINSENA TO FINALLY SHINSENA???

A plain black car pulls up to the curb. Seijuro and Sena get into the back seat with Sena’s gifts forming a barricade in the middle between them. He has Seijuro’s and Karin’s flowers in his lap. He feels eyes on him but for some reason can’t face Seijuro.

“What happened to the other bouquet?” Seijuro asks.

“The r-roses?” Sena asks, staring out of the window like downtown traffic is the most interesting thing in the world. “They were from Marco. I… I left them at the hopsital.”

Sena sneaks a peak at Seijuro. He has a fist to his chin, deep in thought. “You aren’t concerned, so your location wasn’t compromised. Reiji Maruko has the means to send such intimidation tactics to enough hospitals such that one of them ought to have been delivered in your room.”

“How did you…?” Maybe one day Sena will stop being amazed by everything Seijuro does. “But, yeah, pretty much, I think.”

The drive continues for another ten minutes. Their driver avoids a media swarm at the front of the KL campus main entrance and drops them off to the side. They scan their badges and duck into the building before they can be spotted. Since the Kingdom League is staffed twenty-fours a day, all year long, Sena’s not too surprised to see a few people milling around the breakrooms or eating late meals at the cafeteria.

What does surprise him is how they react.

Whistling, smiling, clapping, yelling encouragement. Some even bounce closer before Seijuro gives them a stern head shake to warn them off. Sena returns the smiles apologetically as Seijuro angles himself between Sena and his supporters.

“Do they know what happened?” Sena asks, looking over his shoulder as a brunette blows him a cheeky kiss. He quickly ducks, moving closer to Seijuro. They exit the main building and head to the housing complex, the air cold and crisp.

“To some extent. Let’s talk in your room.” Seijuro says, holding onto Sena’s things while Sena fumbles around for his key. Once inside, Seijuro places Sena’s gifts on the counter. He stands to the side looking slightly out of place. “When you get the chance, read over the news article released about our mission. They’ve omitted the part regarding human trafficking.”

“I guess it is a sensitive case.”

“You’ve become quite popular since the story was released.”

“M-Me?” Sena asks. “ _Why_?”

“You played an important role in the mission.”

“But _you’re_ the one that saved the day!”

“Read the articles.” Seijuro smoothly focuses the conversation back to the main point. “It’s important to be well versed on what the public knows to avoid leaking information.”

Sena can’t fathom why anyone would focus on him when Dark Knight was also there.

Sena sets the poppies down on a side table, only belatedly realizing that it’s the same table where he has Dark Knight’s autograph. It’s kind of embarrassing with Seijuro here. Even worse, if Suzuna were here she would probably haze him about being well on his way to having a Dark Knight shrine. It has to be something about the Shins that makes him even more easily flustered than he usually is. He never even thanked Seijuro for the flowers. He’s losing his manners. His mother would be—

“Train with me,” Seijuro says abruptly, pulling Sena out of spiral.

Sena stares wide-eyed from where he’s placing Karin’s roses by the windowsill.

“O-Okay,” Sena says, breathless. “Wait!”

“Training together will benefit our teamwork as hero partners,” Seijuro starts, like he was waiting for Sena to try and get out of it.

“No, I mean.” Sena licks his lips nervously. “I meant to say thank you. For the f-flowers.”

Seijuro could be a statue for how still he is.

“Karin—er, Inari—said that, that the flowers—that they—” Sena’s tongue doesn’t want to cooperate. He gives up, shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “I want to train with you.”

Seijuro nods tersely. “I’ll be waiting in the training compound at midnight.”

He closes the door behind him quietly. As soon as his footsteps are out of earshot, Sena plops into bed, face down. The pillow is cool against his warm cheeks.

He has about a few hours before he’ll have to meet with Seijuro. His stomach flutters in excitement.

Training directly with Dark Knight. He won’t get better tutelage anywhere else.

This opportunity is once in a lifetime. Rationally, he knows that as much as he’ll be learning from Dark Knight, he’ll also be revealing information about himself and his weaknesses. Dark Knight will have the perfect chance to catalogue all of Sena’s bad habits to exploit in the future once everything’s back to normal.

_(Think about where you want to be after your internship is done.)_

Right. Well. The Captain knew it would come to this and must have been okay with it. Dark Knight as well must have weighed the options and felt that training together is the best course of action for them.

Sena showers and scrubs himself clean, wanting to get the hospital feel off of his skin. He’s not covered in gore. Dr. Noroi must have bathed him during his hospital stay. His reflection stares back at him, gaunt. He gets a few snacks at the ready. Although he feels fine, he can sense a deep tiredness in his depleted muscles. Going by the constant demand of food, his body must still be recovering.

He draws the curtains closed and pulls out his phone, the one he’s not supposed to have on punishment of death via bazooka to the temple, according to Hiruma.

**_11:07_ **

**_hey are you awake ^^;?_ **

**_how’s HQ treating you?_ **

_11:08_

_YOU HAVE SOME NERVE_

_TEXTING ME LIKE THIS_

_DID YOU READ THE LINKS I SENT U???_

**_forgive me!!!! DX_ **

**_I was really busy_ **

_Stop using that cute lil emoji pouty face_

**_Is it working?_ **

_AAKSDLFAS_

_but ye im fine_

_actually_

_omfg_

_im like……………………._

_Not to be dramatic, but I am living my truth and creating my bliss._

**_Elaborate for the people without big brains???_ **

_SENA!!!!!!!_

_!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_I’M GOING TO WORK WITH INARI_

**_What?!!?_ **

_I’m going to be her handler!!!!!!!!!!_

_Well_

_One of her handlers!!!!!!!!_

_Well_

_Assistant to one of her handlers!!!!!!!_

**_I’m surprised u haven’t exploded_ **

_wtf I’m chill_

_BUT ALSO LIKE WHA TIF WE FALL IN LOVE_

_AJSDAS;DFADSL_

**_:O_ **

_i mean we won’t_

_but_

_like_

_what if_

_we do_

_lashdfasl;dlfaj;sd_

_sena!!!! Im………_

_ASJDFHFAS_

Sena has a seaweed snack halfway to his mouth.

For some reason, he’s never really considered Suzuna’s fixation with Karin to be anything other than admiration, like how he is with Dark Knight.

It’s true that Suzuna has talked in-depth about Karin’s looks (which, he can’t blame her, Karin is _really_ pretty), charitable deeds, and heroic accomplishments. And, now that he thinks about it, Suzuna’s never had a boyfriend (all those times she spoke about her romantic interests were always in a vague sort of way, or her utter disappointment with Tinder boys that never progressed past a coffee date)…

**do you have a crush on Inari :O ??**

_WHAT_

_listen nows not the time_

_im_

_asj;fda_

_HOW IS YOUR INTERSHIP_

**_Smooth topic change :)_ **

_Listen here, young man_

**_I’m older than you_ **

_Yea, but you can’t drive_

**_…some would say_ **

_sena don’t u go there_

**_that you can’t either_ **

_WOW_

_wtf_

_WE WERE FINE NOTHING HAPPENED_

**_WE DIDN’T GET THE DEPOSIT BACK ON THE RENTAL BC OF THE DAMAGE_ **

**_All for one car chase!!!_ **

_It had to be done, u KNOW im right_

_But pls continue talking about the business ethics behind government-backed machines of war_

**_Well, this is only a little related_ **

**_But_ **

**_Would you like Inari’s autograph_ **

_JHUH??_

_ft me now_

Suzuna calls Sena before he even fully has a chance to read her message. He picks up, and her face is a sight for sore eyes.

“You met Inari? You have her autograph?” She shifts in bed, her short hair slipping out of her messy ponytail. She’s doing a face mask. “Also, hey!”

“Hi,” Sena says, smiling. “Would you like me to show a picture of you to her?” Sena relaxes on his side.

“Only the ones where I look good.” Her eyes light up. “Show her the photos of me from when I went to that cheerleading camp!”

“Maybe a photo where you’re not impersonating someone would be best,” Sena says.

“But I looked so good in that cheerleading uniform. And she needs to know what she’s getting herself into.” Sena can’t deny that. Suzuna is a lot.

Suzuna brings her phone closer to her eyes and squints at Sena. “Is that your new place? Let’s see the room tour!”

Sena doesn’t have anything incriminating out and the lights are dim anyway. He rotates the phone around the room, narrating as he goes. “So here’s the little kitchen area which goes right into the rest of the apartment. Micro apartment? Ah, I’m not sure… that door is to the bathroom, and there’s the back door that goes to this shared backyard thingy, my front door, and then back to me. Satisfied?”

“You have a Dark Knight shrine?”

The phone crashes into Sena’s face as his grip goes slack in surprise. “A sh-shrine? It’s _one_ autograph and the flowers are—they’re from the team!”

Smugly, Suzuna grins. “You knew exactly what I was referencing.”

“Well there’s only so many things that could fit the… the _shrine_ criteria. Which it’s not,” Sena denies vehemently. How could he _not_ keep them? The flowers hold emotional weight. Seijuro picked them out _specifically_ for Sena. They didn’t talk about them, not really, but they still meant something. What do the flowers mean exactly? Who knows! The flowers would just be something they both silently agreed to not acknowledge any further. Which was a somewhat common theme between them—only discussing matters that must be dealt with, ignoring everything not deemed essential. Sena could deal with that.

“You got a lock of his hair tucked somewhere away as well?” Suzuna asks.

“Do you want Inari’s autograph or not?” Sena asks, indignant.

“Wow. Ice cold,” Suzuna says. “You’re making me real proud.”

“I’ve toughened up since being here.”

“You look different.” Suzuna’s inquisitive eyes track all over Sena’s face. He’s scared of what she’ll find. She’s too perceptive for her own good sometimes. “Don’t give me that look. You just—you seem kind of tired. Have you eaten anything?”

“The agency is really… demanding,” Sena says. He holds up some snacks for good measure. He is eat, at least.

“They’re not making you their gopher, are they?”

“No, nothing like that. I’ve actually, I’ve done real work for them.” Sena rolls to his other side, Dark Knight’s autograph staring back at him. “I like it here actually,” he says in a small voice.

“More than your other job?” Suzuna asks, just as quiet.

“There’s no—you can’t compare—it’s different.”

“Okay. You’ve just never said anything positive about your job back home.”

“I haven’t?” Sena asks. “Well—I, I mean, every job has its strong points.”

Sensing that Sena wants to leave the conversation, Suzuna says, “I’ll be working with Inari tomorrow before my classes.” She gets a one-thousand yard look in the eyes.

“I have a feeling you’re not going to be sleeping tonight.”

“I already put Red Bull in the coffee pot as a precaution.”

“You’re going to drink hot Red Bull tomorrow?” An exaggerated retch makes Suzuna crack a smile.

“Ew, don’t be gross.” Suzuna turns on a light as she enters her bathroom. “I’m brewing my coffee with it.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m going to need all the help I can get if I want to make it through my afternoon class!”

“Suzuna, you will die! I don’t even think that’s an exaggeration!”

“I’ll be fine,” she says, waving him off. “You worry too much.”

“What would your brother think?”

“He would think, ‘Suzuna you are a creative genius, I would also like to try some.”

“He only drinks water!”

“He—how do you know that?”

“Uh,” Sena says. “You… mentioned it…”

“Probably. Seijuro has so many weird quirks. What a dork.” Suzuna takes a damp towel and starts washing the face mask off. “So, you’ll get me the autograph? I feel like it would be way too, like, not work-appropriate if I ask, like, I need to keep things distant as a handler, you know?”

“Of course I will.” Anything for you, Suzuna. “I’ll bring it back when—is that supposed to happen?”

“What?”

“Uh. Your skin. It’s…”

Bright red and flaking.

Suzuna goes off camera as she looks into a mirror.

There’s a heavy pause. Sena swallows nervously.

“Suzuna?” Sena squeaks.

The silence continues for another beat before Suzuna shrieks for a split second before cutting off the call.

A few minutes later, Suzuna texts back:

_11:32_

_I’m moving to Peru. Tell Seijuro. Good bye._

Which roughly translates that she’ll be okay.

Sena heads to the KL compound twenty minutes early, USB drive clutched in his hand. His hood is pulled up over his hair, goggles in place. He’s a little concerned when he walks by a large security officer, but he just give him a friendly wave in the middle of eating some cake. Sena takes the stairs up to the heroes’ offices.

He debates about where to put the USB. He feels too guilty to plug it into Seijuro’s, Karin’s, or Archangel’s. Maybe Dyadic, but he’s scared of him too now with his wildly changing personalities. Golden Era’s? No, something about the blinding white smile unnerves him. He decides on Archangel’s computer, which he thinks Hiruma would appreciate.

Her office is unlocked which gives him pause. He steps in anyway. Her office is fairly basic and professional, but there are touches of personality here and there. A soft plush here, a Funko toy there, cutesy animal-themed pens on her desk.

Sena quickly replaces her mouse’s USB with the one Hiruma gave him. It’s some sort of special device the Captain cooked up that can connect with her mouse and still send signals back and Sena’s very fuzzy on the details of how it works, but it’s done, he did it, he got that over with, may Archangel forgive him.

On his way to the stairs he sees Archangel walking back up. Of course. That was too easy.

“Oh, Eventide, what are you doing here?” Her robes are bit wrinkled, her hair a little messy. She just looks overall a little tired. Sena had never thought about how the heroes are all human, no matter how godlike they may seem.

“I I was going to train with Dark Knight.”

“Already training? I guess there’s no helping it since you were cleared. What are you doing up here?”

“I forgot where the training compound is and got lost,” Sena admits, which is the truth. He’s always been bad with directions. Deimon actually held a small celebratory party when Sena learned his way around the tunnels.

“It can be confusing,” Archangel reassures him. “Here, I’ll take you.”

Sena sweats under his tracksuit. She doesn’t _seem_ suspicious.

“Do you also have this schedule?” Sena asks, keeping his hands safely in his pockets. She won’t be able to see his fidgeting with the USB. They go down the stairs, leave the main KL building, and cross a grass field.

“I know it sounds bad,” Archangel laughs a little, “but I don’t need more than a couple hours’ worth of sleep, so I just spend my time working. However, I really wish you don’t turn out like me. Do as I say and not as I do. Well, here we are.”

“I wasn’t even close to the right building.”

“Not really, but it’s okay. It’s your—wow, it’s only your second day.” Archangel blinks. “I’d thought you’d been here longer for some reason.”

“I know what you mean.” So much has happened and it’s just the start.

“You have a good night,” Archangel says. “And be careful okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Sena nods, bows, goes through a whole series of polite acts.

“Okay, okay,” Archangel laughs. When she laughs, all seven of her wings shake with her. She sends him a final pleasant smile, before taking off in a fluttering of feathers.

Sena hopes she doesn’t suspect anything.

Sena scans his badge to enter the compound. It hosts several training rooms inside, each specialized for enhanced strength damage. Inside the first training room is Dark Knight in full hero gear. He’s doing a drill with a training spear—both ends blunted—a dizzying array of strikes and swift foot work. Dark Knight is a formidable hand-to-hand combatant, but he works best with ranged weapons. Anything where he can use his speed, strength, and superior defensive maneuvers is his element. Sena has seen his attacks nullified by Seijuro’s all but impenetrable defenses, and he’s been on the receiving end of lots of spear and trident attacks. He’s survived due to his regenerative abilities, foresight, and pure dumb luck.

“You’re late,” Dark Knight says. He hands Sena a box.

“I got lost,” Sena says. He opens the box. It’s a copy of his hero costume.

“You should change.” Dark Knight pointedly turns around to give Sena some privacy.

Sena debates changing in the restrooms, but he’s not sure where they are, so he’ll have to find them and probably get lost on his way back and it’ll be a whole thing so he’ll just. Change. Here. In front of Seijuro. But not really, because Seijuro isn’t even looking so it’s fine, not a big deal!

He tugs on his clingy suit quickly. Sena doesn’t—particularly care for his appearance. He’s a little self-conscious of how he looks, especially compared to people like Dark Knight. Sena’s metabolism is too fast to really pack on meaningful mass, and Tsuyumine didn’t see the point in upping his muscles for aesthetics. Everything he has is streamlined for maximum speed output. Most of strength is in his lower body, but overall he’s on the smaller side. Come to think of it, he doesn’t know any hero or villain that’s shorter than him. It helps his agility, but he never wants to be in a showdown of brute strength.

Seijuro taps his spear on the ground, gets Sena’s attention. Sena mind snaps back into focus.

“We’re focusing on agility today,” Seijuro says. “You have impressive speed. I doubt that there’s many people that are close to your level, but you lack strength.”

Sena blinks at the compliment behind his goggles. A wave of heat starts creeping across his cheeks. Seijuro doesn’t sugar coat anything.

“Our speed is our advantage. It’ll be our main weapon when fighting. I’m not as fast as you are—” Sena cuts in to protest, but Seijuro shakes his head. “But I am stronger. We’ll have to assimilate our styles. Get used to each other. We’ll start with footwork and work our way to more complicated maneuvers. We’ll have to work on it every day. Are you ready?”

Train with Seijuro every day. Working together every day. Spend time together, every day. It makes Sena’s head light, airy, to think about.

He swallows thickly.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, so I do have a rough outline of what I want to include in this fic, but lots of things change. I was reading chap 13 to refresh myself on what was happening, and even I was like "how tf is this going to be resolved?" But have faith and trust the process! My next update will be UH? IDK? But I'm not giving this baby up. If there's any sort of hero interactions you'd want to see, lmk so I can include that before the plot comes back :3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust fall.

“Let’s start with a warm up.”

Sena’s blank look must be visible even behind his goggles.

“You don’t warm up?” Seijuro half-asks, half-accuses.

“We usually just get into it,” Sena says. Considering how they have a doctor onsite and Sena has super-healing, the Captain doesn’t believe in wasting time warming up.

“That will change from now on. You need to be in top shape. That means proper training, proper recovery, proper preventative measures.”

Sena doubts that Seijuro would approve of the instant ramen packs he has back in his micro apartment and the shockingly low amount of sleep Sena gets. Neither of which Seijuro will ever be made aware of.

“Okay,” Sena says, knowing full well he won’t be throwing any of his frozen pizza rolls away.

Seijuro, who is already warmed up (and is probably always warmed up and ready for strenuous activity at the drop of a hat), guides Sena through a series of dynamic exercises. They’re not difficult, but by the end, Sena’s breathing a little harder and feeling his blood pump in his veins. His muscles feel primed and ready, his movements feel quicker. Maybe there is something to doing things the ‘proper way’ after all.

He takes a sip of some water and gets out a crinkling bag of chips from his gym bag. He stuffs a few in his mouth, wiping his hand on a towel. When he turns back around, Dark Knight is staring at him. Dark Knight’s mask is unreadable of course, but there’s a sense of Seijuro absorbing information and piecing it together.

(Dark Knight is smart and observant. It’s another reason why Dark Knight annoys the Captain.)

“Your powers drain a lot of energy,” Seijuro says.

“Especially when I’m doing something that’s drawn out.” Sena gives an apologetic smile. “I can, I can eat outside if…?”

“No. That is fine.” Seijuro walks closer and plucks the potato chips from Sena’s hand. He turns the bag over to look at the nutrition label. “This is not proper nutrition.”

“N-no, yeah, I know, but it’s… really… convenient?” Sena feels like he’s standing on trial. There’s something very familiar about being yelled at for his eating habits by a Shin. Seijuro probably has the same scowl as Suzuna behind that mask.

“What do you usually eat,” Seijuro asks without really asking.

“Well, here, I’ve been going to the cafeteria. And some take out. And I have some snacks.”

“And with—your other group.”

“Uh… pretty much whatever I had at home. Or I’d get something from the school’s dining hall. Sometimes take out. Break room had a lot of oatmeal. And my snacks.” Sena shrugs.

“Like these?” Seijuro holds the chips like it’s a used diaper.

Sena squeaks, “It’s convenient!”

Seijuro looks from Sena to the chips and back again. “Fine. Finish what you have left of this, but avoid buying this in bulk. I’ll bring proper food for you.”

The air conditioning hums to life above them. The automatic lights in the room across from theirs turn off from disuse. Sena plays the words back in his mind, thinking he must have heard wrong. Did Dark Knight just offer to feed _him_ , Devilbat, home cooked meals?

The barest warmth of embarrassment plays on his cheeks.

(Sena has seen the lunches Suzuna brings to school, cooked and packed by none other than Dark Knight himself. Sena has even tasted them on a few occasions. He would be an idiot to pass this up.)

“You don’t have to!” Sena insists.

Seijuro’s mask studies Sena for a moment longer before heading to a row of lockers lining the far wall. Sena wishes he could see behind it and get a clue to what Seijuro is thinking.

“I do not trust you left to your own devices.” Seijuro comes back. Next to Sena’s water bottle, he sets down electrolyte tablets, complex carbs powder, protein powder, vitamin tablets, and fish oil pills. “These are all just supplements. Not meal substitutes. Here.” Seijuro hands over a paper. It carefully notes the quantity and order of what Sena should take with what meals and when.

Sena grabs one of the tubs and turns it over, looking at the intact tamper seal. “It’s brand new,” he says dumbly. “They all are.”

“Yes. I bought them for you.” Seijuro’s voice is careful. It’s the tone he uses when he does a rare interview and a reporter skirts too close to the boundaries Dark Knight has. “These are brands I trust. I’ve used them myself.”

There’s a slight tremor in Sena’s hand as he holds the hand written notes Seijuro took for him. Seijuro must have been thinking about this for a while. At least long enough to plan out the supplements, buy them, and write the directions.

“I can start bringing the meals tomorrow,” Seijuro says quietly, looking back to the equipment.

It strikes Sena that Seijuro is giving him a choice. Sena hasn’t been the one guiding his own life recently. Having options, no matter how insignificant they may seem, make him feel better, like his agency matters, like his choices matters. Like he matters. He thinks maybe that’s why he refused at first, a knee-jerk reaction after being constantly ordered around.

But he has a choice.

“Okay,” Sena says, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t trust his voice to speak louder. “Thank you.”

Dark Knight gives a gruff nod. “You can mix the instant carbs and electrolytes into your water. It’ll help during the training session.”

Sena follows the instructions, breaking an electrolyte tablet and adding two scoops of the instant carbs into his water bottle. He shakes it up and takes a sip. A little sweet, a little salty, a bit lemony. It’s not awful.

Meanwhile, Seijuro finishes arranging the agility ladders on the ground. Sena trots up to him, looking curiously at the equipment.

“I want to see what formal basics you have,” Seijuro says. “See if you can recreate this.”

Seijuro sets up on one end of the ladder and begins. His feet are lightning fast as they flit in and out of the rungs, never so much as disturbing the rope. His power and speed are in full display. He finishes within seconds then turns to Sena.

Sena nods. Looks simple enough. He gets in the same half-squat position and starts, pumping his arms. He’s surprised with how easy the movements are, almost like muscle memory. Before he knows it, he’s on the other end of the ladder.

“Have you trained with these before,” Seijuro asks, in that weird way of his that doesn’t sound like a question at all.

“Um, I don’t think so?” Sena says uncertainly.

“Not even when you were younger?”

The question catches Sena off guard. He’s never talked about his past with anyone. He finds himself drawing a blank and fumbling for words. “Oh. Uh. I don’t really…”

Seijuro waits patiently. There’s a slight tilt to his head—questioning—so Sena continues.

“I only remember up to a few years ago?” Sena says, uncertainly. “Since I first started working with… you know. Before that is kind of, uh, missing.”

“I did not know.”

“No, it’s okay! No one asks, and it never came up.” Sena laughs awkwardly.

“You don’t remember anything else? Your parents?”

“Not really,” Sena says, tight lipped. He feels a little squirm of embarrassment in his stomach. He doesn’t remember his parents, but he remembers Dark Knight.

(He wonders if Seijuro remembers him from all those years ago.)

(That autograph.)

Sena blurts, “Why did you ask?”

“These are common drills used in a variety of sports,” Seijuro says matter-of-factly, no hint of recognition in his voice. Sena’s shoulders droop a little. “It seemed as if you had done them before.”

“Oh,” Sena says quietly.

A small part of him wonders if his younger self, his before-Deimon-self, was part of a team. A piece of nostalgia settles into his heart. He realizes how much he wants to know about his past. What he liked, his hobbies, his parents? Are they still alive? Are they looking for him? Or did Hiruma—?

“Regardless, your skill should facilitate the next step. Let’s do it together now,” Seijuro says. “We’ll synchronize our speeds this way.”

“Okay,” Sena says. He walks over to the beginning, focused, but does a double take when Seijuro stands a few paces on his other side.

“Same drill. Start when you’re ready. I’ll follow.”

Sena swallows, but nods. He counts down under his breath and starts. His steps are sure and swift, his rhythm steady, just like earlier. Then Seijuro starts the drill a few moments after him.

Suddenly, he double guesses the pattern, stutters, starts again, trips. The ladder is a reinforced alloy, so it’s heavy enough to catch between Sena’s feet, and he lurches forward.

Seijuro’s hand snags Sena upright by the forearm before he can steady himself. His skin feels tingly-hot where Seijuro grabs him. Sena murmurs a quick thank you, rubbing at his arm.

(It’s a nice gesture. Sena is perfectly capable of stopping himself from falling face first onto the floor. But. It’s Seijuro’s gruff way of showing… concern? So, it’s nice.)

“Sorry,” Sena mumbles.

Seijuro’s arms are crossed as he looks at the drill setup. His helmet turns to Sena, regards him for a bit, before saying, “Let’s start again.”

They set up once more. Sena starts just fine with the drill until Seijuro joins him less than a foot way. His feet tangle again in the ladder. Just as before, Seijuro reaches out and yanks Sena from falling.

“Thanks,” Sena says and looks at the ground. He can feel Seijuro’s eyes boring into him through his mask, analyzing every last second of their failed attempt.

“Hm,” Seijuro says. He backs up several paces so that he’s in the middle of the room. “Again. By yourself. I’ll check your form again.”

“Uh, sure,” Sena says. He goes through the exercise a few more times under Dark Knight’s watchful gaze. His feet feel sure and steady. He doesn’t have a problem at all. He takes a deep breath, trying to internalize the feeling and use it later.

“You look good,” Seijuro says. “Your form is fine. You have a strong base. Let’s try together.”

Somehow, as soon as Seijuro sets up close to him, Sena has two left feet. He doesn’t even make it a few steps in before he’s being detangled from the ladder by Seijuro. Seijuro hums pensively.

“I’m sorry,” Sena says. He doesn’t understand why he can’t seem to focus on his footwork when Dark Knight gets close, why he keeps tripping.

“We will work through it. Let’s slow it down.”

Seijuro is methodical checking off every possible thing that could be causing the error. They go slower. They go faster. Sena switches his lead foot. He uses a wider stance, then a narrower stance. They increase the distance they stand apart. They stand closer. They try with Seijuro leading _and_ all the variations they had tried before.

The result is always the same: Sena stumbling over his own feet like a newborn fawn, Seijuro helping him up. Sena giving a quick thanks, rubbing at his forearm, or elbow, or shoulder, or wherever Seijuro grabbed him, still feeling the hot brand of Seijuro’s gloved hand on his body.

“Sorry,” Sena says between pants. He yanks his arm out of Seijuro’s helping grasp and holds it close to his chest. “Sorry. I just…” He trails off, frustrated. He staggers to the bench and slumps down.

Seijuro remains pensive. He doesn’t _seem_ tense, but Sena is already worrying about the things Seijuro could be thinking.

“Let’s take a break,” Seijuro says. He unclasps the bottom part of his mask and picks up his water bottle. Sena didn’t know his mask could do that, but it makes sense from a practical stand point. Seijuro’s jaw has a light sheen of sweat as he puts the bottle to his lips and drinks in long gulps. Sena pulls his eyes away, sipping from his own drink.

“I know I can do it. I _can_ ,” Sena insists nervously.

“I know,” Seijuro says.

Sena’s words die in his throat. He feels like the air has been knocked out of him.

“What?” Sena asks.

“I did not expect us to do it perfectly on the first try.” Seijuro clasps the lower part of his mask back into place, voice matter-of-fact. “But we will train until we can work together seamlessly. We have no other choice.”

(The traitor gives them no other choice.)

Seijuro adjusts the equipment with his foot, arms still crossed. He looks to Sena. “What are you thinking when we’re practicing?”

“I’m thinking of…” Sena pauses. “What my next step is?”

Seijuro remains quiet.

“I’m thinking that… I can’t mess up?” Sena tries again.

Seijuro shakes his head. “You’re too focused on me.”

Sena chokes on his drink. Some of it spurts from his nose. He sputters, wiping his face, nose burning. Seijuro speaks again before Sena can deny such a ridiculous accusation.

“You still see me as a threat.” Seijuro’s voice is serious and steady. “When I get closer, your focus is on defending yourself and reading my movements. Your shoulders tense, protecting your neck. You turn your hips towards me, keeping me in your line of sight.”

Sena doesn’t even know what to say. He hadn’t even realized he’d still been treating Seijuro like an enemy. He knows firsthand the power Seijuro has; he’s felt the blows to his body. It’s all but ingrained into his psyche to tense up and be ready to fight.

But if he thinks about it, Seijuro’s actions since Hakushu have been… nice.

Sharing secret information. Planning with him. _Helping_ him be a better fighter. The work out supplements. The training sessions.

The apology.

(The food.)

(The flowers.)

An enemy wouldn’t go through all this trouble.

It _sounds_ like the bare minimum, but compared to trying to maim each other before, it’s almost a night and day difference.

Sena takes another sip of his drink. Seijuro’s broad back is to him at the moment. He’s looking out the glass paneled walls to the empty and darkened hallway. Bathed in the sterile white light of the gym and with the dark foreground, Seijuro looks lonely. Vulnerable. It would take less than an instant for Sena to flit up behind him and attack.

Another choice.

(It’s an even easier choice than accepting free food.)

It may take a while, but he wants to be strong for Dark Knight. Sena wants to be a partner that can stand by Seijuro’s side.

“Our training won’t advance unless we have a mutual baseline of trust,” Seijuro says, turning around.

“Some habits are just hard to break I guess,” Sena says. He clenches his fists, growing resolute. “I want to try again.”

Seijuro paces back to the bench sits down next to Sena, close enough that their knees almost touch. Seijuro looks around the gym. It’s late. The last person to go through the doors left almost two hours ago. There’s been no activity here but the two of them.

With a click, Seijuro begins removing the chest piece of his suit.

At which point, Sena ducks his head and politely looks at the ground.

Seijuro neatly sets the pieces of his suit to the side. The chest and arm pieces, gloves, shoulder pads, neck protector, mask. It leaves him in just a black long-sleeved, carbon-weave shirt that clings to his musculature. His hands are bare. Rough, calloused, scarred. The hands of a hero.

Sena is responsible for some of those injuries. The sour taste of guilt coats Sena’s tongue at the thought.

Seijuro stops clears his throat. He breathes out slowly from his nose, like he’s calming himself. “May I see your hand?”

Sena’s a deer caught in headlights, frozen in place. He doesn’t trust his voice to speak without cracking. Doesn’t even think he could say anything. His voice is caught in the cage of his throat, squeezed tight next to his furiously beating heart. He forces himself to move and place his gloved hand on top of Seijuro’s.

Seijuro takes Sena’s hand and sets it against the junction of his jawbone.

“A strike to the jaw causes the head to accelerate. Until the brain stabilizes, every strike against the skull will cause it trauma,” Seijuro rattles off, business-like, while Sena tries to keep his trembling from being too noticeable.

(Sena can feel the light coat of sweat on Seijuro’s skin. The faint graze of stubble. The steady pusle below his fingertips.)

“An overwhelming number of neurotransmitters fire simultaneously, overloading the nervous system, and causing unconsciousness.”

Seijuro moves Sena’s hand to rest above Seijuro’s throat. Sena’s fingers vibrate as Seijuro keeps talking, and the buzzing seems to seep right into Sena’s marrow.

“The neck is also extremely vulnerable. There are aerodigestive pathways, nerves, veins. All vital to healthy functioning and with minimal protection.”

He moves Sena’s hand lower, resting just above Seijuro’s clavicle. Sena feels the bone and the firm muscle of his chest.

“The domes of the lungs roughly end here. A forceful strike anywhere here is debilitating. It could cut off airflow, cut off blood to the brain, cause hematomas, internal bleeding.”

Seijuro leaves Sena’s slim hand at the base of his throat and drops his hand. Seijuro’s pulse beneath Sena’s fingers is stable as ever. Sena feels Seijuro swallow. He feels Seijuro’s steady breathing. He feels how human Seijuro truly is.

Sena’s not particularly strong for someone with supposedly augmented strength, but fatal damage can be done by anyone if they get a lucky shot. Especially after being given a roadmap.

“You could kill me now,” Seijuro states. “You’d have time to escape.”

Sena draws his hand away, frowning at the idea.

“May I?” Seijuro asks, reaching up.

Sena nods, rubbing at his too-warm fingers.

Seijuro firmly presses a knuckle against Sena’s temple. He suppresses a flinch, a shiver at the contact. It’s uncomfortable but doesn’t hurt. Seijuro’s touch is almost unbearably hot against Sena’s bare skin, like being touched by a flame of the sun.

“I could do the same in a number of ways,” Seijuro says. He moves his knuckle to where Sena’s jaw and throat meet. He opens his hand and lets it rest across Sena’s throat, his hand almost entirely wrapping around it. “I could reveal your identity. Foil a criminal heist. I’ve had every chance to do so.”

There’s no pressure to Seijuro’s palm against his throat, but Sena’s finding it hard to breathe anyway. His breaths come quick and shallow.

“What are you thinking of now?” Seijuro asks.

(His warmth, his heartbeat, their nearness.)

“I don’t know,” Sena mumbles. He makes the mistake of meeting Seijuro’s intense eyes and pays for it with ringing in his ears.

“I am thinking that, currently, you could out speed me and kill me. I also am thinking that you will choose not to do so.”

Sena purses his lips. They sit in silence as Seijuro withdraws his hand and puts his suit back on. First the chest piece, then the neck protector, and lastly clipping his masked helmet into place. Dark Knight stands and goes to the drills.

Sena doesn’t know how to instantly resolve the instincts that make him tense up in Dark Knight’s presence. For the past year, all he’s known is flitting in and out of the shadows to clash against Dark Knight, to anticipate Dark Knight’s movements, to strike and be ready to be struck back. His feelings towards Dark Knight are mixed with fear, adrenaline, bruised bones, admiration, ruptured muscles, regret, ambivalence, rivalry, pain. He doesn’t think he can bury it all.

(But.)

(That isn’t his first memory of Dark Knight, though.)

(His first memory of Dark Knight is filled with wonder. Admiration. Awe.)

(He wasn’t scared of Dark Knight when he was younger.)

Sena sips from is drink, thinking. He’s scared of Dark Knight almost as much as he admires Dark Knight.

(The hand to his throat had spiked his heartbeat. It had been part fear and part… something else. Something that swirled cloyingly, hotly in Sena’s chest.)

But what about Seijuro? Who cares for his sister, cooks her meals, and drove her to gymnastic lessons until she was old enough to take the train? Seijuro who’s bad with technology, awkward with affection. Seijuro who has a girlfriend.

Sena’s mouth twists, his drink having gone bitter in his mouth. He caps his drink and goes up to Seijuro.

They share a wordless glance and exchange a small nod.

They start again. Sena takes a few deep breaths. Reluctant allies, but allies nonetheless. He repeats that in his mind a few times. Allies, allies, allies.

He goes through the drill by himself, slowly, each step in time with the mantra: _allies – allies – allies._ He goes to the beginning, speeds it up. He starts again, with Dark Knight joining, and when his muscles tense up at Seijuro’s proximity, he forces himself to relax. Head high, shoulders down. He unclenches his jaw.

( _allies, allies, allies_ )

(warmth, calloused hands, close, closer)

They close the distance between each other from a foot, to two rungs, to one rung, to just half a step of difference. They finish the drill, and Sena looks up at Seijuro, breathless and relieved and a little shy, still.

Their first completed pattern in perfect synchronization.

Seijuro clasps a hand on Sena’s shoulder. A smile breaks out across Sena’s face.

It’s a small spark of understanding between them. Just a small celebration before they do hundreds more repetitions, burning the footwork and speed into their memory.

(It’s nice. Working with a partner. Working with Dark Knight. With Seijuro.)

The training flies by, the last hour slipping away in a haze of drills and sweat. Seijuro takes them through a few cool down exercises and then calls it a day just before four in the morning. Sena collapses against one of the benches, panting. Dark Knight is one of the few people that can truly push Sena all the way to the edge in pure speed. Even his mind feels taxed.

“I’ll expect you in my office at six this evening,” Seijuro says. He unclasps his helmet and takes it off. He shakes out his dripping hair, breathing harshly. “Eat enough to recover from this training session, since we’ll be ending our day with another one tomorrow. Any questions?”

Sena wants to duck his head and avoid Seijuro’s dark gaze, but he forces himself to hold it steady.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Sena asks, mopping sweat from his forehead with his hood.

“Patrols,” Seijuro says. His face twinges slightly in annoyance, just a subtle shift. “Desk work.”

“Sounds exciting,” Sena jokes. Seijuro remains vaguely annoyed. Sena stands, stretching out his back. “Um, what do we do now?”

“Whatever you wish. It’s your off time.”

“We can leave the campus?”

“It’s not a jail,” Seijuro says. “Use discretion. Don’t go anywhere you shouldn’t.” _Like Deimon._

“Right. Discretion.”

Seijuro gives him a deadpan look, then fits his mask back on. He puts up the equipment “Six,” he says, as a reminder.

Sena nods and watches Seijuro leave.

Sena slumps in his seat, exhausted. His legs are trembling, every muscle in his lower body feels strung out. At least Seijuro also looked as tired as Sena feels. He plays their training session in his head over and over again, but keeps going back to the trust exercise they did.

(Warm skin, the steady heartbeat, just inches apart)

Seijuro’s serious face, the sweat clinging to his strong jaw. His flushed cheeks. His dark gaze. Hair plastered to his temples.

(It’s a nice face, Sena can admit.)

_(Dark Knight… is kind of good looking…)_

Sena leaves the training room in a huff.

He can’t shake the flush from his cheeks not matter how cold her runs the shower. He looks at his (small) collection of Dark Knight memorabilia as he’s getting into bed, and rolls on to his side facing away from it.

He’s sure he won’t be able to get much sleep, so he decides to visit the hospital later today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry! I uploaded a version of this a few days ago. It was about 2.5K words. I reread it on AO3 and wow.... it did not hold up. It was really bad so I pulled it down, gave it some tweaking, and here we are. Hopefully the wait was worth it! The ending is pretty rushed but this chapter was really slipper to write lol


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